Maximum Evil
by AtomicLithium
Summary: The second part of Resident Ride: Should Maximum trust Wesker? Will she find her daughter? How will Wesker prove to be the biggest asshole of the century?
1. Meatball Subs

Blue had to be the most calming color in the world. I had read that in a magazine before, but while the baby blue sky's all I could see for miles, it absolutely makes sense. Paired with flying, I was, at the time, at peace with the world.

Once I landed, that's when my racing thoughts hit me. About Phoenix, about the flock, about - _shudder-_ The Umbrella Corporation. My greatest fear from the past ten years was them catching me again, yet one man never alluded my thoughts. Albert Wesker, the man who saved me from Oswell's grasp; who might have freed me to benefit his own agenda.

Landing in the small town of Hotchkiss, Colorado was an easy deal. I could freefall into the wooded area behind the town, quick enough that there mere one thousand residents wouldn't spot me. From there, I could walk a few miles to the town's epicenter and to their small inn, exclusively for tourists. I didn't look much like a tourist, but I paid generously to keep my visit quiet. My go-to story: running away from an abusive ex and I didn't want to be found. It works like a hot knife through butter on the older folk in these tiny cities. Plus, look at me, what kind of harm could I possibly do to anyone? Insert deviant smile here.

I tried to keep my mind silent on my walk back to town with no success. I couldn't believe it had been ten years already. And where had I gotten myself? Nowhere. All found information led to dead leads. A few years back any information at all was a rarity to come across, and at this point I had given up. There was technically one last lead... but it ended in going back to my captors or meeting Albert again, both were highly unlikely.

My stomach growled once the smell of barbecued food wafted my way. Zach's BBQ always had their grills running, making it super easy to know when I'm coming up on the town.

Casually I stroll behind the restaurant, not worried anyone would see me. It was still early in the morning, and the restaurant crew was inside getting ready for the day. Nearly no one was out on the street, aside from the early morning dog walkers and joggers. Surely no one who cared about my activities.

On the walk to the inn was a grocery store, where I figured I'd get something fast to eat while walking to my room. Tomorrow was my last day there before I moved on to the next small town, and I always made sure to eat out on the last day. I was definitely gonna go to Zach's.

The cool rushing air after walking into City Market refreshed me after strenuously flying. It was June; a warm, dry day for the small town. My windbreaker beaded with sweat at the crooks of my elbows.

I headed straight for the deli, although probably not the healthiest choice, and quickly order two large roast beef subs. Irene, who was one of several old women who worked behind the counter smiled, accustomed to my double orders.

"How's your day, Marie?" She used a name that I gave myself for this seperate city. I wasn't sure what the next name for the next city would be yet.

I watched her systematically place American cheese slices on the inside of the bread and then the roast beef, sliding both sandwiches into the toaster. "Not too bad, took an early morning jog."

"I can tell," she replied, commenting about the beads of sweat dripping down my temple. "I hear your last day is tomorrow?"

The toaster dinged, and Irene promptly removed the subs. She wrapped them carefully and placed them in a paper bag, handing them to me as I hand her a ten dollar bill. "Yes, ma'am. On to the next city."

"Where ya headed next?"

I fidgeted with the bag. "Not sure yet. I'll figure it out."

Irene flashed a hopeful smile. "I'm sure you will."

I nod and head towards the small seating area of the deli, figuring I'd eat one sub now and save one sub to stuff my face in solitude at the inn. I set my bag down at a small table and nearly sit down before a shadow catches my eye. The being disappears behind an aisle quickly, fast enough to even allude my reflexes. What small detail I did catch sent chills down my spine.

Blonde, slicked back hair.

 _How many people in the world have that same haircut, Maximum,_ I chastised myself.

 _Then again I haven't seen one in this town._

I had been in Hotchkiss for long enough to remember everyone's passing face and even make myself a regular to those like Irene. No one, that I remembered, had a haircut strikingly similar to _his._

I scooted the wooden chair back in its place and figured it wouldn't hurt to just check it out. Trying to act collected, I picked up my bag and strolled over to the aisle, coming across an empty walkway.

 _See? Nothing's there. It's just you feeling hopeful again._

That was enough spooky for me. Before I had yet another anxiety attack, I made a beeline towards the exit, careful to not look anyone in the eye. Once I was outside, the refreshing mountain air chilled my fretful mind. I scanned the parking lot before heading out north towards the inn. Everything seemed clear, until I spin around to face my destination and nearly get bumped onto my ass.

A gasp rose in my throat as the man I had been waiting on for a decade stares intently into my eyes, not even a foot in front of me.

Albert Wesker was smoking a cigarette, shades over his eyes but his signature hairstyle more prominent than ever. He looked older now, a given, and even bulked up a little bit. He wasn't exactly scrawny before, when I last saw him placing me in the getaway car. He was definitely more defined, even through his black jacket and pants.

Swallowing extremely coarse spit, I prepare my mouth to speak. Before I can utter any noise, he blows smoke in my face.

"Need a lift, sweetheart?"

My cheeks lose their color, and I look around quickly for any nosy town people, and then drag him off to the corner of the building.

"Are you crazy? Someone's gonna call the cops on you," I spoke with a hushed tone. He simply laughed it off.

"Am I a wanted man around here?" He smirked, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Something like that," I muttered, still in disbelief that he was standing right in front of me. I caught myself glancing from him to the ground often. "My shtick is about running away from a deranged ex boyfriend."

"I don't remember us being that close," he commented sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes as he led the way to his black SUV, parked in the way back of the grocery store's parking lot. The A/C, once he started the vehicle, felt like heaven on my sweat streaked forehead. I directed the way to the inn, but other than that, silence from me.

Once we got to my hotel room, I quickly shut the door. The residents were already suspicious about Albert's visit. I cursed myself for using such a harsh excuse to be 'running away' from. It's not like I anticipated Albert's return anymore. But yet, here he was, right in front of me. Looking... different. Not the lab science geek I was accustomed to. More high classed now, maybe? He definitely gazed at me the same way. Like he wondered how my mind ticked.

Hell, _I_ was suspicious of Albert's visit. After all this time, what could he possibly want with me? I thought for sure he just forgot about what happened.

I sighed, relaxed once the front door was closed. The room was just like any generic hotel room: oddly patterned quilt, shabby carpeting, at least once mystery stain. You know, the usual. By then I had known exactly what it was like to live out of hotels, and it wasn't all that jazzy. Even though I had spent my time attempting to locate my daughter in nearly all continental states (a bit in Canada too), I still had an eerie feeling that someone, somewhere was still watching me. I guess I was right.

"After all this time," I started to chide, then my words fell short. Albert sat on the chair opposite of the bed and stared at me as if he knew I was going to scold him. I changed my route. "How did you find me?"

Albert half laughed and glanced at the backpack sagging down my shoulders. "What? After all this time you never bought a new backpack?"

Realizing there was a tracking device in the bag infuriated me. I ripped it off my back and threw it on the bed, promptly unzipping the pocket and pulling out the meastly cash I had left.

"I'm glad I didn't," I sneered, showing him the few thousand I had left.

"I told you, if you were smart, it would last you. And it did."

"I had no fucking clue what I was going to do when this ran out."

"Stop yelling. You've lived on the streets before."

"It was easy to beg for food when I was fourteen. They'd call the cops on scroungy thirty-four year old me."

Albert's tout lips turned into a half smile. The reflective aviator sunglasses were really starting to piss me off; all I could see was me looking back at myself.

"Don't look so stressed. Sit down, I have a proposition for you."

I crumpled up the bills in my fist and did as he asked, sitting on the corner of the mattress.

I had a feeling about what he wanted. Last time we spoke he made it clear that he would need me again one day. I thought he was just bullshitting, but his presence made me assume otherwise.

"There's been a series of cannibalistic homicides in the Arklay forest, namely a location very familiar to you and I. I'm currently the Captain of a tactical team in Raccoon City, and we need your help with the Spencer Mansion."

Laughter nearly burst out of me. "Cannibals, huh? You sure it's not the work of your bio weapons?"

Albert's face was unreadable. "I don't work for Umbrella anymore. I work to contain the mess they've made."

Reading through his words were as impossible as reading his expression. Usually I can boast about my ability to hear lies, but with Albert, it was truly impossible.

"So what do you need me for?"

"The override module in the mansion's mainframe is locked by passcode. I don't know the code, but I have a feeling you do."

"What makes you think that?"

Albert picked at his short nails. "Before I left Umbrella, Oswell was obsessed with you. I have reason to believe the code has something to do with you."

I sit silently for a few seconds. "Override module?"

"For self destruction."

Wincing, I looked down at the bills in my fist and relaxed my knuckles. "That bad, huh?"

"That bad."

We sit in silence once again.

"How's the search for your daughter going?"

I scowled. "I'm sure you know. You've probably been busy spying on me for the past decade."

The backpack thing still pissed me off. It pissed me off even more that I didn't catch onto it. I had thought about dumping the bag immediately after getting into Denver, but I was too busy studying every passing face to see if they were an Umbrella spy. For a few years, I was certain they were still after me, and they probably were.

He nodded. "I did know where you were, but I assure you, I was keeping you safe."

My reaction was a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "With all your expansive contacts, you couldn't help me find my daughter?!"

"I had other things to do."

The steam was rising. "What makes you think I'll help you!"

Finally, he took off those damned glasses. The heat in his glare and the fire it set in my chest made me prefer they'd be put back on. "There's a reason you haven't found any information about your daughter. Umbrella has a hold of her."

My teeth clenched tightly as a way to distract the tears. "You couldn't even find a way to tell me?"

Albert shook his head. "It's important that I tell you now instead of in the past. I have the perfect opportunity to reach Umbrella's mainframe: the Mansion. I can't do it without you, though. It's under a heavy passcode, and after you escaped, Oswell was obsessed with you. It's incredibly likely that the code has something to do with you."

"How are you sure?"

"I tried to get in before I left the lab. The usual password no longer worked, and at that time his obsession was still rampant."

"And I'm assuming you need the password? Not just for Phoenix?"

"Did you expect otherwise?"

I grinned slightly. "I guess not."

"I know you have no leads on your daughter but the mainframe can change that. I've got a lead of my own as well, an executive living in Raccoon City. He might have extra information."

"Don't really have much of a choice here, do I?" I muttered, hanging my head low. Albert stood and put both hands in his black slack's pockets.

"You always have a choice. But this is one good deal for you, and the only deal. Take it or leave it."

Closing my eyes, all the possibilities flashed past my mind. I didn't have a choice if I wanted to find my daughter. She was all I had left.

"Can I decide in the morning? I promised Zach I'd visit his restaurant before I left."

"Quite the charmer these days, I see," Albert mocked. "We should head out as soon as possible."

 _I've been lonely,_ I wanted to say but I kept my mouth shut. Instead, I stared intently at the bland hotel carpet.

Truth be told, Zach's restaurant reminded me of home. Jeb, my makeshift father, would grill meat every end of summer. That was a long time ago, and my daughter is my future.

"I'll go if we stay one more night."

"If you must be this difficult, fine."

 **W/N: I am truly embarrassed, I left my personal writer's notes at the top and I forgot to delete it . It's fixed now but the existential dread I feel at night has just begun**


	2. Taupe

I'm sorry, Zach, but his barbeque restaurant was so goddamn plain. It looked like any country diner, filled with white old folks and country fried chicken.

Zach had known me since I got into Hotchkiss. Gloria, a young server who lived down the street from where she worked, told him my sob story and he extended his condolences to me. In fact, he felt so bad, he said he'd pay for any meal I needed. They were yet to find out just how much food I truly needed.

With strenuous activity, such as running away from the law, government entities, or corporation employees, I need at least three thousand calories a day. That's on a day where I kinda starve. I had never officially counted calories, but I know with fast food, I can get up to five or six thousand calories.

Since I had my 'good friend' with me on my last day at Hotchkiss, I decided to go easy on the cooks. I would only order two grown men meals for myself.

Albert looked awfully out of place in the diner. I told him to keep the glasses off so he didn't look like a serial killer, but his outfit still gave him a freakish vibe. He was the only one dressed in all black considering the dead heat of June, and he consistently gave off a suspicious glare. The heat from his body practically radiated trouble, and the townspeople definitely felt it.

Gloria's smile brightened when she spotted me but it immediately fell after seeing Albert. I took a deep breath, reciting my upcoming conversations in my head.

"Who's your friend, doll?" Gloria asked, coming up to our table and shining him a fake grin. Her eyes read worry, and I instantly curse myself for bringing him around the people who knew of me.

"This is my good friend Albert," I chimed. Her expression warranted explanation. "He's not the boyfriend, I promise."

Gloria seemed relieved but not fully persuaded. I wasn't really either.

"Is it your last day already?" She asked.

"Yes it is," I replied, giving Albert a side glance. "I leave tomorrow morning."

"Where to this time?"

"Not too far from here, up in the Arklay Forest."

Everything I was saying put me deeper in trouble. Gloria seemed to have heard stories about such a place.

"Just be careful," she replied uneasily, reaching for the empty notepad in her apron. "What can I get you two?"

Albert went over the menu for one last second. "Just the fish sandwich meal, Coke no ice."

When it was my turn, I ordered two barbeque dinner plates with a large chocolate shake and a water. More estranged looks came from Gloria before she headed off to the kitchen.

"We need to talk," Albert said, and I rolled my eyes.

"I figured. But I'm going first."

Albert looked nonchalant. "Go ahead."

"So what's the detail about Phoenix?" I asked, not wasting any time. It had been too long since I heard anything about her.

Gloria came back with our drinks, still sporting an uneasy smile. Albert waited until she continued her rounds to speak.

"I can tell you everything I know, but I don't know much. The majority of the information will be locked inside of the mainframe."

"And what about the lead? The executive you mentioned earlier."

"He may possibly know about Phoenix. His executive position was terminated not too long before Phoenix was captured, but he was a chairman of that specific branch."

"Which branch?"

Albert took a sip of his Coke and pushed the cup towards the center of the table. "Resource Location."

My stomach fell, but it sounded like Phoenix was still alive. If she was a resource to them, they wouldn't outright kill her.

My elbows propped me forward, leaning over the table, while Albert's back rested comfortably on the booth.

"They're not experimenting on her?"

"Not that I know of. We did at first, but just basic stuff. Her DNA is nowhere as pure as yours."

" _We?_ "

"Birkin and I, after you left but before I left. Phoenix definitely has her parents' ability in fleeing: she evaded capture for quite some time. Years, really."

I felt pitiful. _Years_ went by before Umbrella got a hold of her and I still couldn't keep her safe?

Yet, another part of me felt such pride that she was able to stay hidden and retain all the survival training we taught. She is my kid, after all.

"So after you were done collecting her samples, you just let her loose?"

"Oh, absolutely not. This is where things get tricky. She would be way too big of a risk to let go, so I think she's been put into the foster care system."

Being a homeless child more than once has gotten me fairly used to how foster care works. However, there was something more behind this one. This wasn't some ordinary government controlled program. Umbrella was behind it.

I narrowed my eyes. "Umbrella has its own foster care?"

"Not in the way you're thinking. Let me give you an example. A boy with miraculous genetics is scouted by an Umbrella agent and then taken from his birth parents to be raised in Umbrella's care and watch. They boy can then grow up with, quite literally, the best nourishment possible, especially education wise. Eventually, he'll become an evil genius scientist under command by Umbrella."

"You're talking about yourself, aren't you?"

Albert takes one more slurp of his drink. "Perhaps."

Frustrated more than anything, I rolled my eyes and kept a nose out for the incoming food.

"Don't you see that it's beneficial, Max?"

"Are you saying I can't parent my own daughter?"

"Maybe you can, but not as well as what Umbrella can give her."

It almost sounded like a swell deal, but I know too well that Umbrella always has something under their sleeve. The most greedy corporation in the world wouldn't be raising Phoenix out of the kindness of their hearts.

"I don't want her to end up like you."

A tiny smirk came across his face, and he looked me straight in the eyes. "Phoenix will be more like you much before she's like me."

I wanted desperately for this conversation to end, and Gloria felt that. She whipped over with our tray, filled with hot plates of fresh food.

Eating out always relaxed me, especially with a giant load of calories. I had been glad I went to a select restaurant right before leaving each town, but this time, the tension was palpable.

Once Gloria placed my two plates in front of me, I took a giant swig of my chocolate shake and dug in to the first plate, leaving Albert in the dust. I could practically hear the disgust emanating from his body. I wasn't exactly the most lady-like eater, but what were fingers for if not to shove food into your mouth at vortex speeds?

Albert quietly, and politely, ate his fish, every so often looking up at me to see how much progress I've made. I was onto the second plate before he could finish his main course.

"Jesus Christ, woman, are you hungry?"

"Never seen me eat before?"

"Don't think so."

"Not even through cameras in the mansion?"

He didn't answer, which gave me the answer I asked for.

I was finished completely just about in time for Albert to finish as well. I downed the rest of my shake in an impressive amount of time and sipped on my water while we waited for the check.

My anxiety was not in check. My leg bounced at miles an hour while staring at the man who I barely even knew, and didn't know whether to call him a friend or foe. Yet, his offer intrigued me, and not because it was the only glimpse of hope I had left.

That night, after we got back to the hotel, paranoia took over. There was no way Gloria bought my good friend story, not after that awkward performance. Talk spreads like wildfire in small towns, and I knew Gloria had already told Zach, and who knows whereafter.

Albert quickly noticed my change in mood. "So I'm sleeping on the bed tonight, right?"

"Next to me? Never," I snapped, pointing to the empty couch beside the front door.

"Well, our train arrives at 8. We better get some sleep." He sat on the couch but waited to lay.

"The tickets were for tomorrow morning anyway? What happened to leaving ASAP?"

"Before we left I called and changed them."

Leaning back into my memories, I tried to remember hearing him speak. "No you didn't."

"While you were in the bathroom, yes."

Still, I had no memory of his voice. I went to the bathroom to brush my hair and wash my face, and yet my eagle-esque hearing didn't pick it up.

"You don't believe me?" Albert asked, challenging me. I peered at him sideways.

"No, I believe you."

Taking off my shoes and placing them by the door, I next stared down Albert. "Turn around. I don't want to sleep in jeans."

Albert simply smirked and got dramatically comfy on the couch. "Go ahead. It doesn't bother me."

Gritting my teeth, I had about a dozen words I wanted to say to him, but it was no use. I walked to the bathroom and slammed the door behind me.

I wanted to collapse and cry. Why did I have to work with this man, of all men? There were technically worse men, especially Oswell, but the aura of mystery surrounding Albert was hard to trust. I sat on the closed toilet, cowering my head into my hands.

Tears began to well up, and I forced them down again, missing my daughter in this moment more than ever.

I'd never been to Raccoon City, technically. It was the Arklay forest where the Spencer Mansion was located, in the middle of Arklay Forest. I didn't know how far apart the city had been from the mansion, but I could feel the presence of its citizens close to me. Over the past decade, when I was searching for my daughter, meditation was my only friend. It kept me from panic attacks, but I realized that it also heightened my extrinsic abilities.

I'd spent 90 percent of my free time meditating in Umbrella's captivity, sensing the lives of the people in the industrialized city. It was no ordinary town; most worked for Umbrella but knew nothing of their true ways. However, I could also sense the few who did know what was happening. No matter their place in Umbrella's ranking, they all had the same stink.

Meditating for the short while I sat on the toilet revealed that Albert had the same smell. It was impossible to continue meditating with him in the next room.

Flushing the toilet so it sounded like I had been doing something productive, I then slipped off my windbreaker and blue jeans, letting them rest on the sink. Before I was able to open the door, an authoritative presence swept in the room. I held the door knob but stayed quiet and eavesdropped on the situation.

"Hello, officer. What can I help you with?"

With a little bit of concentration, I could hear their words loud and clear.

"We've just got some complaints in for a wellness check. No big deal, I guess there's a tourist that could be in trouble?"

"My friend has had some trouble with a previous boyfriend; it's nice of the people here to care about her."

I cracked the door ever so slightly.

"I'm sure you're a wonderful friend." The cop's smile was endearing, and Albert was more laid-back than I'd ever seen him be. His shoulders were relaxed and his hands were in his pockets, laughing as they made small talk. A _genuine_ laugh. Not a smirk or a snort.

"You understand. It's procedure," the officer, who had introduced himself as Sheriff Lane.

"Oh, absolutely. Procedure is what I know best."

They exchanged one more laugh before the cop followed Albert towards the front door. I quickly swiped my jeans back on and opened the door as soon as they walked in.

"This is Officer Lane," Albert introduced. "He's here to make sure you're doing okay."

Albert flashed another one of his confident smiles. It irked me, somehow.

"I'm alright," I told the officer, trying to mimic Albert's confidence. "I'm headed not far from here in the morning, my friend is just accompanying me."

Officer Lane eyed me up and down, but appeared relaxed. "Raccoon City? I can tell by the way he's dressed."

Albert and I exchanged smiles. "That's right. I'm hoping to find information about my daughter there."

"Information?" Lane asked quizzically. "Anything I can help with?"

"Not at the moment," I informed him, gaining confidence by the second. Albert's simple stare put me in a daze, like I had been siphoning his energy; as if he was willingly letting me. "She's eighteen, so there's nothing much I can do."

By the looks of it, Officer Lane soaked in my story like a sponge. It was true; my baby girl was eight years old the last time I saw her, on that fateful night with Fang.

"You look well to me. I hope you have luck with finding your daughter."

With that, the officer departed after exchanging a few more friendly words with Albert. He shut the door behind him, and Albert turned to me.

"Eighteen years old?" Albert asked. "You didn't lie."

"No, I didn't," I uttered, throwing myself onto the bed face down. "Good ears, genius."

He did not thank me for the compliment. He remained quiet for so long that I lifted my head to see him sleeping soundly on the couch.

The train ride next morning was tense, at best. We had gotten into Raccoon City without incident, and then from the station, he ordered us a taxi to a home address. As we passed the heart of the city, and then into the suburbs, then outside of the city and into the forest, I began to wonder.

We approached a singular paved road not too far outside the main suburbs, but still solitary from the other residents. It was a half mile long, and sat at the end was a stunning two story house.

"This is yours?" I asked.

"I had it custom built," Albert replied.

Albert's house in the woods was jaw dropping. Literally, my jaw dropped at just how modern it looked. Raccoon City was one high tech city, and his house emulated exactly what I'd expect. Giant windows substituted front walls; you could see the entirety of the living room from the front porch, including an upper level open walkway. It was exactly as I pictured the furnishings as well: nearly all black, the decorations accented with white.

"I know you didn't decorate this yourself," I laughed, astonished. The house wasn't elegant, but at the same time it must have cost him a small fortune.

"You're right. I had someone do it for me."

 _Figures,_ I thought to myself. We got out of his SUV and approached the large door. Albert jangled his house keys until he found the match and unlocked the door, letting himself in first before holding the door for me.

"I'll show you to the guest room."

I was nearly blinded. Everything from the curtains to the bedspread to the light fixtures was a brilliant white, gleaming the sun rays in a perfect way. It was as if the rays were melting onto the fabrics, illuminating their vibrance tenfold.

"I specifically told the designer there would be a guest." I could almost hear the satisfaction in his voice. He watched me as I studied the room, walking over to the bed and pushing on the mattress. To my knowledge, I had never been on a bed as comfortable, _as expensive_ , as this before. My ass was used to sleeping on concrete floors, wooden benches, and even a tree branch or two. But a _thousand dollar mattress_?

Albert cleared his throat before he said the next part. "At the back, the french doors lead onto a porch. You can stand on the ledge and take off, I'm assuming. I had the measurements taken for wing span."

My stomach knotted as I looked past the bed. The french door was white to match the motif, and the patio was visible through the windows. In awe, I walked towards the door and opened both sides, stepping out to see the continuous deciduous trees hundreds of feet below us.

"Before you get carried away," Albert said, suddenly appearing at the door frame. I took my eyes off the sight to look at him. "We have to go through a few things."

Albert pulls out an old wanted poster with a mugshot of 24 year old me. I glanced in the mirror and noticed I really hadn't aged all too much; my hair showed no signs of grey and my skin had no sign of wrinkles. Everything down to the snarky grin was still accurate.

"Your blonde hair has got to go," Albert commented matter of factly. "I have dark hair dye in my bathroom that I want you to use."

I groaned and played with my semi-brushed locks, already missing blonde. "If I have to."

"You do. A little makeup wouldn't hurt either."

Nearly hurt, I walked back inside and examined the stock full vanity across from the bed. It was white to match, and honestly gorgeous. The makeup, however, was questionable.

"I think my natural beauty will do," I insisted, picking up a can of hairspray and cringing at it. "I don't even know how to use this stuff."

"It's never too late to learn. Jill wouldn't mind teaching you a few things."

I sat the can back down and pulled the fuzzy stool out, plopping my butt down. "Jill? Is she in STARS?"

"Yes, that's another thing we need to discuss. I run the Alpha team which includes myself, Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, and a few other men you won't know so well. Special Tactics and Rescue Service don't know my past affiliation with Umbrella."

"So you want me to keep that a secret?"

Albert adjacently sat on the bed next to me. "Not exactly. Umbrella is our main sponsor. The task to investigate the mansion was given to us by an Umbrella executive Sergei Vladimir."

"So you're hiding this specific information from Chris and Jill? You sure you still don't work for Umbrella?"

"The mainframe that I spoke of last night is not only beneficial for you. I need in that mainframe as well. If I still had power within Umbrella, I wouldn't need you."

It stung a little. On one hand, I felt like I was being used. I relied on Albert to get me the information I needed. He still had the upper hand. I knew, deep in my soul, that there was an ulterior motive, but what choice did I have?

"So why are you hiding it from them?"

"Can't you just trust me for once?" He asked, and it was hard to look him in the eyes.

"I already did, once."

"And it went well for you, didn't it?"

I had nothing to say. If my suspicions were correct, this ruse about my daughter could get me killed, worst case scenario. It could even be a trap for all I knew.

The master bath had a shiny black theme, and although my bedroom didn't have its own bathroom, there was an extra across the hallway. I had been instructed to do it in here so the dye wouldn't stain the black countertops, as well as the marble tile. The process was horrific, and made my scalp itch like a motherfucker. At the end, my blonde turned dark, dark brown. It framed my face differently, and I'm not sure if I liked it yet. Oh well. I'd do anything to not get caught by Umbrella again.

Yet here I was, putting myself directly in their path.

In truth, my hair was a sight to see. The burning and itching had a purpose, apparently. The shades of brown, only apparent when I concentrated deeply into the mirror, shone brightly. It reminded me of the dark brown in my secondary feathers. Slowly, I pulled my wings out as far as they could go, barely half way opened in the relatively small space.

It had been a minute since I got to stretch my muscles. What I really wanted to do right then was to take a test drive of that balcony, but the meeting with Mr. Sergei was this morning. It was also the first time I was meeting Chris and Jill, something to be nervous about on its own. Mix in an Umbrella executive and you've got me in pre panic attack mode.

Staring at the details of my new hair and the old details of my feathers calmed me. I hated to have Albert so close; he was really dampening my ability to meditate. Next best thing, however? Flying.

Not many shirts were custom made to fit my back length appendages. The ones that stocked the guest room closet were no exception, but I improvised the same way as usual: taking a switch blade and cutting two slits in the back.

After blow drying my hair, I found a pair of scissors and cut my hair to my shoulders, tired of always putting it up in a ponytail anyway.

"You look good," Albert complimented with crossed arms. "You ready for the meeting?"

"Yeah," I replied, hugging my grey cardigan closer to my body. My shirt was compressed enough to keep my wings flat, and the cardigan perfectly covered the outline of them on my back. I hadn't felt this nice in a long time, and it was thanks to Albert.

"Jill and Chris know a little bit about your past. They know you're a winged freak, but don't blame them for staring or asking questions.

"I've never made many friends by telling humans what I'm capable of," I muttered. He took me by the shoulders and lead me out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

"They're decent people, trust me. Jill can be a bitch but she's honest. People aren't like her anymore."

I groaned internally, already fretting over meeting another female.


	3. Pina Colada

We were the first ones to arrive for the meeting. This wasn't the preliminary meeting like I thought; it was a private meeting with the S.T.A.R.S Alpha team to get me completely filled in on the mission. So, basically me against a group of people who were going to gawk at my appearance, more specifically, my back the whole time. Sometimes I pretend people are staring at my ass... but they're not.

This group of people acted like they had seen so much worse, which was both worrisome and relieving. Albert and I arrived at the Raccoon Police Department at nearly 11 AM sharp, and was greeted immediately by a bright looking face.

"You must be Maximum," she greeted, hand outstretched to reach mine. "I'm Jill Valentine, Breaking and Entering Specialist with the Special Tactics and Rescue Squad."

"I can just call you Jill, right?" I cracked a smile. "Your title is pretty long."

"Jill is fine," she replied stoutly. "We're meeting in the conference room."

Albert simply nodded, beginning to follow her to our destination.

Once we entered the conference room, a burly man rose from his seat.

"Chris Redfield," he addressed, shaking my hand firmly. "It's... fascinating to finally meet you."

"It's okay to have mixed feelings," I said. "Most do."

"I'm definitely fascinated," Jill chimed. She sat down on the uppermost chair of the conference table, her body towards me. "How are you able to keep yourself in the air?"

"Very strong muscles," I laughed. "And porous bones."

"I knew there was some weird shit in this world, but you top my list." Chris added.

"Anyway," Albert interjected, taking over the conversation. A cork board sat in the corner by the windows, aerial shots of the Spencer Mansion pinned to the front. The mansion hadn't changed a bit.

I stepped closer to the board and studied it, my eyes tracing over the picture of Oswell E. Spencer. The boss man.

"That's the CEO of Umbrella Corporation." Jill physically pointed to his face, scratching at him with her feminine fingernails. "He's our biggest donor, and the owner of the property. Wesker says you know this place well?"

"Who?" I murmured, continuing to study the interior shots of the mansion. Rooms I had never seen before, including the laboratory in the basement. In seconds I had memorized every picture I came across, and their relationship to the others in the house. The laboratory-

"Maximum? Wesker, right behind you."

Albert and Chris were chatting previously, but had stopped to look at us.

"You mean Albert, right?" I replied.

Deafening silence hit the room, then all of a sudden, Chris and Jill burst out in laughter. I mean, really gut wrenching, breath holding laughter. My cheeks could not escape from becoming red.

"I almost forgot you had a first name... Albert!" Chris could barely find the breath to speak. Bouts of laughter still escaped their mouths as they were trying to calm themselves.

Al- Wesker - waited until they were calm to speak. "Are you two finished?"

They both nodded with smiles on their faces.

"Albert was what I went by when we knew each other. It was a different time."

"That's right," Chris snorted. "What was that, five years ago?"

"Ten, actually," I answered, eyeing Wesker carefully.

"Long time ago," he added, and I nodded to agree. "Can we get back to the case?"

The situation had suspicion written all over it. For the past several days there had been reports of bodies being found in Arklay forest. Graphic pictures lined the right side of the board. The scenes could only be described as horrific displays of human on human violence. A bear could not have done this, nor a mountain lion. Yet, it was as though the bodies were specifically harvested for their meat. Namely, most bodies has chunks of arm or abdomen muscle; whichever was greater. More than one sign pointed these deaths as murders.

The fated Spencer Mansion: Sergei reported that the mansion and lab had been abandoned for quite some time, however it appeared that cult activity was taking over the now vacant building. He attributed the deaths and cannibalism to the cult members, but he didn't specify anything else about them. I found this pretty odd, and when I voiced my concern, Jill and Chris agreed. Wesker was silent.

Their job (I guess my job, too) was to eradicate the cult with any means deemed necessary. It didn't take a genius to realize Sergei meant killing them. I had never killed a human before.

The S.T.A.R.S. team already devised a plan of entry. While Wesker traveled into Hotchkiss, the Bravo team fell silent. Their last known location was a passenger train closely parked next to the mansion. Their last buzz in through the com system was... disturbing. So, our task would not only be to find this cult, but to also rescue Team Bravo.

Wesker's plan was simple and straightforward. They'd be in a helicopter while I'd be in the air. Upon entering, Jill and Chris would split up into one team, which seemed like the usual for them. They were tasked with the preliminary reconnaissance of the Bravo team while Wesker, Barry Burton, and I searched inside the mansion. No one for sure knew what we'd run into, but it was pretty bad. _That_ bad, as Wesker and I spoke about the day before.

"There aren't any concrete plans to what we'll be doing there, unfortunately," Chris noted. "Umbrella hired us, so they clearly have no idea what's going on."

"They've asked if we could attempt to get into the mainframe for them," Jill added. "Send the information from that location to their new location. You've been there?"

I looked towards Wesker for guidance but received nothing. "I've been there."

"Against your will?" Jill asked with one eyebrow raised.

"It's not important. I've been inside and underground."

They stayed silent for a few seconds. Wesker broke the tension first. "Since you've been in before, you're with me."

I suspected Jill and Chris didn't know about our slightly altered plan: not only to send the contents of the mainframe but to steal them as well. It was now clear what my use was to Wesker, but was he really working for Umbrella and needed the password for his own use or was he simply trying to carry out the contract for S.T.A.R.S? More importantly, how could being in the squad possibly benefit him?

After calling the meeting quits, Jill and Chris chatted about getting beers together. It was a Friday afternoon and Raccoon City's bars were far from empty. They asked if we would join, and we both politely declined the offer. Joyfully, they accepted our answer, but only after we agreed to hanging out at Jill's this evening, and they left the police station. Once they were out of sight, I let out an audible groan.

"I need a cigarette after that," I muttered.

"Agreed." Wesker pulled out a pack of methols from his jacket pocket and offered me one.

There was a back entrance situated on the side of the building, which looked like it had been built in the twenties. It was far too big and gloomy to fit in with the rest of the architecture, and devoutly one of the last original buildings still standing.

We lit up near a group of pine trees, standing in the shade to catch a break from the harsh summer sun. All day I had been aching to stretch my wings and fly, to catch that cool drift of air high above the mountains. Although the air was markedly frigid above the mountains, as well as dry in the summer, it beat sweltering in the heat on the ground.

"I'm gonna have to get used to calling you Wesker," I commented, taking the initial puff of my cigarette. Menthol was my favorite.

"It's pretty sexy though, don't you agree?"

I rolled my eyes. "Hardly."

The devil on my shoulder had another opinion.

"Are you gonna go to Jill's house tonight?"

"I guess so," I replied, taking a drag. On the exhale, I added, "they seem like cool people."

"You didn't strike me as the social type."

It was slightly odd for me to want to socialize, but as I got older, I began to understand why people had friends. Jill and Chris seemed like the perfect fit for each other. They didn't act romantically between each other at the station but it was apparent they were meant to be together in some way. After Fang's death, many years after, I began to crave that sort of companionship again.

"My life is in the hands of these people, shouldn't I get to know them?"

Wesker puffed on his cigarette quietly. "I have to go if you're going."

"What are you, my bodyguard? Be my driver instead and drop me off at her door."

"I have to make sure you don't say something stupid."

"What a lame excuse."

"Trust me, if I don't go they'll jump on you like vultures. Jill especially doesn't understand boundaries."

Looks like Wesker was going. At least he helped me out, usually.

Jill's house was quaint in the cutest way possible - and you can't catch me dead calling something cute. She obviously didn't have the sheer money Wesker did but she had the personal taste. Wesker and I walked through a wooden gate at the side of the house, leading into the backyard.

The smell of beer hit me immediately. Jill was lounged under a gazebo on the lawn, decorated with jade green vines with tiny bloomed flowers, sunbathing her legs in the section where there was still a sliver of sun.

Jill was stunning. Although she had a built physique, she was still curvy in all the perfect feminine places. At the meeting, she was outfitted in exercise gear, as if she'd just came from a jog. In her home environment, she wore a blue tube top, showcasing her chest and shoulders. A black miniskirt topped her outfit off.

I was stuck in my cardigan to hide my wings and jeans because I hadn't shaved my legs in three months.

"So glad you could make it!" Jill greeted from the lounge. In one hand was a fashion magazine and the other held a mixed drink.

"Happy to be here," Wesker replied, drowning in sarcasm. I exchanged friendly smiles with her to make up for how rude my guest was being.

"Drinks are up on the porch," she said, pointing to Chris who was popping another beer open from the cooler. Next to him sat a mini bar and an opened tequila bottle.

It was in this moment that I realized I was 34 years old and I had never had an alcoholic beverage.

Wesker, eager to get to drinking, immediately headed straight for the whiskey that sat inside the bar. He grabbed the appropriate glass, several ice cubes from the beer cooler, and poured himself a full glass.

I continued to stand back, honestly a bit nervous about it. I had smoked weed before, but I had no clue how alcohol would affect my system. I didn't even know what I preferred to drink, but knew for a fact they all tasted disgusting.

"Shots?" Wesker asked, setting out small shot glasses for the four of us. Jill practically bounced off the lounge and came up beside me, and Chris on the opposite side. Wesker lined them all up and poured them full of the open tequila.

Go big or go home, right? Tonight I'd be doing both.

We all clinked our glasses together, much to my confusion, and I followed suit when everyone swallowed the contents.

Bleh bleh bleh! What the fuck do people like about this! Masking my reaction was a task.

But Wesker lined up another row. My stomach was on fire, but after a few seconds, the burn was almost welcome. My body began to tingle when everyone picked up their glass and dropped another shot.

The second one wasn't as bad as the first! I was already feeling looser physically and mentally. My muscles avoided tensing, and I had a strong urge to get comfy under that giant gazebo.

"Three for good luck?" Chris suggested, and I eagerly agreed.

Cue shit-faced Maximum. No, plastered Maximum. Was it even normal to get this drunk after three shots? I wasn't puking or stumbling around, so I thought I was good. Fact: apparently alcohol can turn off all boundaries, all filters, all guards and walls you have in place. For the night, everyone was my best friend.

To be fair, everyone was drinking heavily. Who knows what number drinks we were on.

It was well into dark when we gathered on the lounge, winding down from the day. I was really getting along with Jill, and with the help of the alcohol, it was extremely easy to talk to her.

Wesker and Chris chatted by themselves while Jill and I had the opposite side of the couch.

"Tell me more about how you and Wesker met," Jill quizzed, leaning on her elbow as she sat sideways on the couch. I lounged in the corner seat, mirroring her stance so we faced each other.

I didn't know how much detail to divulge. "I'm gonna be honest. I was held captive by Umbrella. They were super interested in, like, my DNA combination because I'm a bird girl."

"Ohh yeah I forgot about that." Jill took a sip of her pina colada. "So what, he broke in and rescued you?"

"Something like that. He also gave me money to last me all these years."

"Well that makes a little more sense."

"What does?"

"You like him for his money. He's probably paying you more than anyone for this job."

I cocked my head at Jill. "I'm sorry?"

"He's good in bed though, isn't he? Come on, don't look at me like that. I can tell you've boned by the way he looks at you."

My gaze rested on my crossed ankles. Jill understood my answer without having to say.

"I'm not usually wrong," she muttered, trying to form an apology. "He looks at you the way he used to look at me."

I let my mind sit, nearly tempted to meditate. I should have seen it coming. Jill was gorgeous, and Wesker was sexy in a rugged way.

"I used to be married," I spat out. "Wesker is helping me find my daughter, that's all."

Jill inched closer to me. "How long has it been? I know it's been a long time."

"Sex?!" I shouted, but in a hushed tone. We broke out in laughter and peered at the boys. They were lost in conversation of their own, arguing about something petty.

"Well, no. That too, though."

Laughing once again, and once we calmed down, Jill took my shoulders. "All I'm saying is that it's been ten years since your husband. I know it hurts, but don't be afraid to move on. I have."

"Wesker is probably not that hard to get over," I snorted.

"He really isn't," Jill chuckled, looking back at the men. We both kinda gawked at them for a minute, eavesdropping on their argument. You could tell they were still having a good time.

"Are you in love with Chris?"

"Redfield? Nah, we just click. It's not romantic."

"C'mon, admit you have feelings for him!"

Jill remained quiet but entranced with thought. "I can't say at this time."

It's the same with me, I wanted to say. Wesker was right. I would have probably said something stupid if he wasn't there.

The urge to pee fell on me like a brick house. Piss like a race horse had a whole new meaning to me. I asked Jill where the restroom was and excused myself, letting myself in the back door and to the left as she instructed. Before a staircase a closed door led to the windowless bathroom, not nearly as sleek as Wesker's but still Jill's distinct.

I flopped on the toilet and did my business, time seemingly zooming by. By then, it must have at least been midnight.

After flushing and picking my jeans and underwear off my calves, I stood in front of the mirror and took a good look at myself.

For the first time in years, I smiled at my reflection. Yeah, I was pretty wasted, but I felt good. I felt confident.

Two tiny knocks blossomed on the wooden door, and before I could say the room was occupied, the latch clicked.

"Sorry," Wesker slurred, stumbling into the enclosed space. He didn't sound genuine.

"What if I was taking a shit?" I yelled, trying to push him out unsuccessfully.

"I heard you flush."

"What if there was too much shit and I needed to flush again?"

My shove was useless against his frame. Ten years ago scrawny Albert may have been faster than me, but he had definitely been working out in that time. For my size, I was superhuman strong, and I couldn't get Wesker to budge.

I was also incredibly inebriated.

Shoving with my hands eventually turned into half assed jabs with my shoulder. I was basically leaning up against his chest. He straightened me out by cupping both of my shoulders.

Wesker's touch was warm, quite literally the opposite of what I had expected. His gaze seeped cold and calculated. In this moment, his eyes were soft.

His hands didn't part from my shoulders. My heart began racing while he gazed down at me, and I panicked.

"Jill told me you two had a thing before," I blurted, a sudden case of dry mouth evading me.

My words didn't shock him. "Exactly: before. We were never in a relationship."

Lie undetected. My muscles relaxed and I allowed Wesker to push me closer to the sink counter until my body was pressed against his.

From my shoulders his hands slid past the skin on my neck and stopped at the jut of my jaw. Wesker dipped his head towards mine and our lips grazed. I made the last small movement to fully touch our lips together.

My hands migrated towards his hips, hugging him closer to my body.

The kisses were as slobbery as you can imagine drunken kisses. I grasped my hands on his hip bones, pulling him even closer.

Belt buckles came loose feverishly and I scrambled over the buttons in his shirt. Once the buttons were undone, he stripped off his shirt and grabbed my thighs to yank me on top of the sink.

"Wait," I stumbled, grabbing his hands as they gripped the top of my pants. He continued pulling ever so slowly, until I let go.

The kisses he planted on my upper thighs changed my mind. I leaned back against the mirror and let him slide my pants down all the way.

 **W/N: I am torn between doing a full blown sex scene or leaving it as is! So if I revise this chap later on, you will know what I added ;)**


	4. Samurai Edge

Like what happened never actually happened, I woke up the next morning feeling pretty good. I thank my out of whack genes for giving me the ability to pass hangovers.

Alcohol, however, had the same effect on me as anyone else, and maybe a little worse. I still did some really dumb shit.

Waking up in the guest room of Wesker's house was probably the most awkward I'd ever felt in my life.

The large windows and French door allowed natural light to pour in, especially on a sunny Colorado morning. The air was crisp but the sun was warm: immaculate flying condition.

Kicking the blanket off my body, I zipped around the room, gathering my clothes from last night off the floor. I really hoped I had undressed myself, but I couldn't remember.

Promising myself to never drink again, I threw the doors open after getting dressed and once again reminisced the view. My balance was perfect as I stood on the balcony railing. Wesker had insisted I could use every item of clothing at my disposal in the guest wardrobe. Creepily enough, from the cardigans to the shoes, all items were exactly my size. The coincidence had to have been from my time in the underneath the mansion: Umbrella had supplied me with clothes as well.

At the same time, it was almost cool that I had a fully stocked wardrobe waiting for me. When I was younger, I was never a fan of fashion. Nudge exclusively drove me insane with her obsession. In my closet hung ratty old clothes and a pair of shoes that were not much younger than myself. I didn't mind that sort of conservation until Fang, Phoenix, and I lived on our own. Finally, it was as if we were a normal family, albeit secluded from the rest of society. That was when I began to have... real girl wants? That sounds strange.

Nudge's interest finally made more sense to me. When you're not worried about survival, it's fun to find out what kind of dresses accentuate curves, or maybe even own a second pair of shoes. Fourteen year old me would be disgusted that I would even consider wearing a dress. I give her kudos though, it's definitely not the ideal flying gear.

As I stepped up on the railing of the second floor balcony, I peered down not only at the forest below me, but the shoes I chose to wear. They weren't any of the fancy ones stocked in the closet. I chose to keep my old shoes on. They were the most comfortable anyhow; worn down shoes have their perks.

The day was still early. The breeze was chilly without my cardigan, but once my blood started pumping, my body would become warm. Especially directly in the sun's hot rays.

My last true flying escapade was right before Albert's reappearance. Feeling the wind graze my feathers was like heaven, and I stretched my wings out as far as they could go, and then relaxed them. At a relaxed posture, my wings still spread out about two feet from my waist. Without them fully flexed, they were as tall as the base of my neck. It had taken a ton of muscle training to squeeze the muscles against my back so they were at least sorta hidden.

When they were fully extended, the beauty was truly a sight to see. Not really, though. Only a select few were allowed to see, including a few strangers in less than 24 hours.

The brown secondary feathers, now matching my hair color, stood out almost golden in the sunlight.

Arching my back slightly and visualizing the momentum of the wind, I allowed weightlessness as I hovered in the air. Slowly, I began to rise, catching the different levels of air drift as I rose higher and higher. Before taking off, I surveyed the slopes to see which direction was most safe. Raccoon City was perfectly to the southeast in back of me, and the more I concentrated, I could sense the Mansion's surroundings to the west.

North screamed peace.

The time was well past noon when I arrived back at Wesker's house. Instead of stopping at the balcony, I landed on the ground beside the side of the house near the driveway. Listening closely, I tucked away my wings, fixing my shirt over them, and peeked around the front.

Wesker put away his coffee, his sixth cup of the day, emptying the contents of the now cold coffee pot. He stood at the sink for a while, pondering something, then went back to the center island of his kitchen. I walked into the front door just as he sat down on the high island stool.

"Have a nice trip?" Wesker asked, his head inside the daily paper. I had no choice but to stare at the back of his head.

"Hunger inducing. Do you have food in the fridge?"

Wesker looked back at me like a disappointed father. "There's cereal."

For how fancy his fridge was, it was pretty damn empty. I ended up snatching the milk and the cereal that was already sitting on the counter.

"You like cocoa puffs?" I asked while I poured the cereal into a bowl, then milk on cereal.

Lowering the paper, he watched me pour the milk. At least, I think he watched. This morning he sported his signature aviators. "It's alright."

"Can you really read the paper with those on?" I smirked, butt leaned up against the kitchen sink. "Is that what a hangover is?"

Wesker looked me over again. "Of course you don't get hangovers."

I shrugged and munched on my cereal. "I'm pretty perfect."

Wesker snorted but had nothing to say, until he placed the paper down. "The squad wants all of us to meet at Kendo Gun Shop. Burton informed Kendo of your visit and had a gun made for you."

 _Ugh, guns._

"I've never even shot a gun before."

"Of course you have, you shot James Marcus."

A sickening sensation entered my system. "It was a life or death situation."

"This will be too."

I chewed on my lips more than the cereal. "Are we really after cult members?"

"I suspect not. You know how much Umbrella likes their beasts."

I cringed just thinking about having to shoot one. Guns were not my style, at all.

"What if I just wanted to... manually incapacitate them?"

A solemn look swept across his features. "You don't want to get close to these. I forbid hand to hand combat."

The eeriness of what he was implying distracted me. Moreso that he knew this extra information, and Chris or Jill said nothing about it.

"What got out of hand for Umbrella?"

"I don't know the whole story."

For the first time since I had known him, I straight up detected his lie.

"How much of the story do you know?" I pushed, walking over to the edge of the island. Our staring contest was impenetrable, even though I was looking at my reflection.

"It's not a cult. Does that satisfy you?"

"Not really."

"I want you to be trained on a firearm for a specific reason."

"What's the reason?"

Wesker sighed and stood, grabbing his car keys from the tabletop. "Everything will become clear. If you're done interrogating me, we need to leave."

He walked out without further discussion. Irritated, I slightly stomped up the stairs to grab my cardigan and threw it on while going back downstairs and into Wesker's SUV.

Kendo's looked slightly run down and definitely not where I expected the members of S.T.A.R.S to get their weaponry. There was a giant neon sign that read **Kendo Gun Shop** , and it was excessively large to be hanging where it was. Opening the heavy wooden door gave us the whole tiny view of the shop, and Chris and Jill stood in front of a counter. Behind the counter stood a friendly looking man about the same build as Chris.

"This must be her," the man greeted, grinning from ear to ear. The other two had cheesy smiles as well. "I've heard so much about you."

My anxiety spiked. "A lot of people know about me nowadays."

"Well who wouldn't?" He laughed. "It's not too often a Navy Seal comes by the shop."

The cheesy grin was contagious at this point, but mine reeked of apprehension. Eyes widening, I scrambled for a response.

"In training only," I blurted, giving off a nervous chuckle. "I'm looking to be the first female Navy Seal."

The impressed glee on his face was astonishing. "Well my name is Robert Kendo, and I'm here to take care of anything you need."

Robert lifted a finger and walked in the back of the shop, coming out a few seconds later with a fat, shiny suitcase. He placed it on top of the glass display and clicked the clasps open.

We all gathered around the counter to see what was inside. Surrounded by a soft black material laid a suppressed pistol with the STARS initials engraved on the visible side. My fingers fidgeted just thinking about holding this gun, even though I was sure it was for me.

"When Barry told me there was going to be an exclusive contract for STARS, I knew I had to make something special." Robert literally shined with pride, and I felt way too fucking bad to _not_ hold it. "This is your run-of-the-mill Beretta 92F, but a custom made Beretta that Joseph has dubbed the 'Samurai Edge'."

The gun felt _so much_ heavier than it looked, but a good heavy, and I hope it wasn't apparent that it was literally my third time holding a gun. I remembered what Fang had taught me: check if the gun is loaded before aiming in all situations. At the time, I muttered _maybe not all situations_ , but in this situation, it would totally make me look professional.

The memories I had with Fang were vivid, especially in dreams. Some of the most vivid came from the gun training he instilled on me, including the first and last time he convinced me to hold a gun. Now I wished I had more practice shooting, and more time with him.

Like a fucking boss, I slid the clip out of its place and checked it for bullets. In fact, it was loaded, so I slid the clip back in and simply balanced the weight in my hand.

"I've never shot a suppressed gun before," I said without thinking. Jill gave me a sight shake of the head.

Robert raised his eyebrow, looking at all the members of the Alpha team before focusing on me. "Not in the academy, you haven't?"

"I haven't gotten that far... in school," I lied, nodding my head. "There's so much to learn."

Robert chuckled, and I knew I corrected my mistake. "That there is, and I'm sure a ton more for a Seal."

I agreed silently and put the gun back in its perfectly sized place. Robert snapped the clasps back on and gave the handle to me.

"Extend my sincerest gratitude to Joseph," I said, giving what I thought was a stylish salute and curtsey to Robert as a goodbye. They practically dragged me out by the elbows.

All three of them muttered off something about professionalism, or military ethics. All I was concentrated on was the weight of the case in my hand, and the occupant of said case. That I might be having to kill something living, even if it's a Cerberus. Taking the quick way out seemed cheap compared to literally fighting for your life, which was ingrained in me as deep as a habit can run.

Our next stop was the gun range, technically part of Raccoon Police Department's property. It wasn't too far outside city boundaries, but at least two miles further than Albert's house from the city. We all fit perfectly in Wesker's large SUV. The guys sat up front, the girls in back, and a shit ton of firearms in the trunk. I wasn't sure if the rest of the team had custom guns as well, but they sure acted like it. They all needed to bring their special pistol.

Standing at the gun range, no shade in sight, in my cardigan, on a 100 degree dry Colorado afternoon was pure hell. I had to stand there as they all gawked on their pistols. They checked if the clip was correctly inserted, if it was loaded, everything under the sun. I could swear they checked for dust. Mine was in my hand, but my 'Navy Seal' training was failing me. For the ten minutes that this weird military exercise took, the only thing I did was make sure the metal of the gun wasn't touching the skin on my leg. Because it was so hot out, the metal would burn me.

At least I could sport a pair of short shorts. My legs, now freshly shaved, felt pretty sexy. Until I looked over at Jill, who looked astonishing in her short skirt and spaghetti strap top.

"You can take off the cardigan if you want, Max," Jill called out, catching me staring at her.

"I'm good, thanks," I replied, resisting the urge to swipe sweat off my forehead.

The fabric of the cardigan was beginning to stick on my clammy arms, but the attention from my exposed wings was unwanted. I felt naked having them exposed.

"It will impede your range of movement," Wesker added. "They're gonna see them soon anyway. Might as well get over the excitement while we're not in real combat."

Slowly I slipped off my cardigan and placed it on the picnic table beside us. While they watched, I reached back to untuck my wings out of the slits in my tank top.

None of their expressions were new to me. Albert looked the way he always did: unimpressed. I knew deep down he was entranced.

The two who once thought they had seen it all had obviously not seen it all. Stunned silence possessed them both, the most common reaction to my mutant appendages.

"Can I see you fly, please!?" Jill begged, and Chris was blown away.

"No. Next question."

"Those things actually work?" Chris asked, going from a range of emotion. He'd look perplexed one second, then excited the next.

"Yes, they do, " Wesker interjected, pointing his gun at the targets. "Are we doing this or not?"

"I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Aim and pull the trigger," Wesker told me. "I want to see what you already know."

I almost insisted again that I had no clue about any of this, but then from behind me, a loud pop rang through the meadow. I cringed at how especially loud the noise was, and discovered Jill fired a shot.

"Good Christ, don't people usually wear earmuffs?" I yelled out.

"In moments of intense gunfire there are no earmuffs," Wesker whispered into my ear, dragging me over to face the targets. "Shoot."

Jill watched me while I raised my arms straight out, then having Wesker bend my elbows at just the right angle. My custom made Beretta almost felt good to hold; the weight of the weapon seemed exactly right. I wondered if that's what Robert meant by custom made.

The targets were exactly 15 yards away from the firing point. The target was paper with a body printed on it and different points of interest at the heart and head. I steadied my gun just below the heart.

The shot rang in my ears once I pulled the trigger, but feeling the strength of the gun was a whole new experience. I felt the kick all the way down my dominant arm, most of the force stopping at my shoulder. I lowered my arms to see where my bullet had landed.

"Not bad for a beginner," Chris nodded. "You'll impress me when you can hit that same place fifty times in a row."

"He's right. Go a little faster. More bullets this time." Albert set his gun down and tweaked my elbows slightly to achieve the best stance. Mentally, I made note of these adjustments and fired off the rest of my clip.

My performance pleased everyone. Chris was right, it was beginner accuracy, but I knew I had the extra talent to practice preciseness.

"Both feet, both knees, both arms, middle of chest, middle of head," Wesker demanded, throwing me another clip. Once again, I reloaded and raised my arms, determined to get everything right. When his adjustments never came, I zoned in on every section of the body, pulling the trigger at just the right time and angle to ace every target. Some holes were askew, but all were where Wesker wanted them to be.

"If you can fly the same way you shoot, I have confidence," Jill laughed, and Chris agreed.

-x-

Later that night, we parked outside this dude's house. Stranger to me, that is, and seemingly stranger to Wesker as well. He didn't have very much intel on the ex-executive from Umbrella, and by the way he spoke about him, they were in complete opposite parts of Umbrella's dark underground. The whole thing reeked of Itexicon, the lab I was created in. They too wanted world domination, but in ways I never fully understood.

Then I wondered if they were sister companies, and if the mainframe in the mansion had any information on the disceased Itexicon.

"You sure this is the guy?" I asked, raising an eyebrow towards his house. It was an extremely modest one bedroom close to the main city streets. That night, heavy clouds drifted in over the mountain tops, covering the valley sky in all directions. The air was humid, cold, and most of all, I could smell a fishy odor.

Not literally, anyhow. But the way this place appeared: a muddy front lawn surrounded by patches of grass. Not in the best neighborhood. Umbrella always had a way of surprising me, but this would have been their greatest in my eyes.

Wesker shoved his suppressed pistol in the back of his belt loop and encouraged me to stow mine, but I refused.

"I can incapacitate him if he gets angry, " I insisted.

"What if he has a gun?" Albert snapped.

I shrugged casually. "I've dealt with guns before. I've been shot before. I'm quicker than a human."

"Then why not be that quick with a gun?"

"I don't want to kill him. End of story."

The calming patter of rain fell on top of the car's roof. I listened to the melody until his living room lights clicked off, but the 6 PM game show reruns were just starting. The illumination of the television nearly re-lit the whole room.

"What's this guy's name again?" I asked, palms sweating as Wesker geared up.

"Gary Newland. He's a big," Wesker outstretched his arms horizontally, "guy, and technically an ex-detective for Umbrella. He will recognize me when he opens the door for us. My lead will be easy to follow. Got it, Maximum?"

I was zoned out but still heard him, nodding in agreement. Without hesitation he stepped out into the rain, walking to the other side of the car and holding my door open.

It was not a downpour but to be caught in it was slightly disagreeable. We jogged to the porch and Wesker rang the doorbell.

The beginning of a show caught his attention momentarily, but Gary came to open his door.

"Albert Wesker," Gary boasted, unnaturally happy to see Wesker. Really, who was this happy to see him? Probably only his mother. "Who's your lady friend?"

"It's been a few years, Gary," Albert smiled. "I'm Captain of a specialist squad with the Raccoon City Police Department now. This is my partner, Agent Stone."

The name change threw me off guard but I smiled and stuck out my hand to shake his.

Gary looked impressed with the name. "That's swell. Reminds me of detective work back at Umbrella. Quite different from your position, now that I think about it."

Wesker outstretched a friendly arm. "May we come in and chat?"

"Sure thing, pal." Gary opened the door completely, revealing his shabby living room and tiny television, even for 1998. His house hinted at cigarette smoke, though I could smell the most cautious smoker. Gary was good at keeping the smoke smell away.

Gary led us to the couch, where one small armchair sat adjacent. Wesker took the armchair, and I was forced to sit next to the guy.

"What do you go by now?" Gary asked, an intent stare on his face as he turned the game show volume down. "Agent Wesker?"

"Captain Wesker, but that's formal. Wesker is the usual."

"You always had a thing for the glasses," Gary laughed, pointing to the shades that rested on Wesker's collar. "A lot has changed, though."

Wesker glanced at me before replying. "Indeed it has. Listen, Gary. I'm sure you recognize this set-up."

At first, I hadn't a clue what Wesker meant, but then the old detective chuckled and looked down at his trodden carpet. "Yeah, I do. What do you need to know?"

"There was a case you were heavily involved in before you resigned, Gary. In 1988. That was not my department to meddle in but I do know a few specifics. I'm led to believe the case file was dubbed Operation Ride, or something similar?"

"Similar, yes. My boys and I at the precinct called the case Phoenix Landing when we were trying to get her the spot."

"The spot?" I asked.

"Yeah, place her in a family within Umbrella. She'd be raised to be what the company needed."

"And what did the company need?" I continued, but this time, I received nervous looks from Gary.

"I'm not one hundred percent sure. You know, Umbrella Pharmaceuticals is a front to what they really do. I don't know the nuances of it; that's where Albert would come in."

Wesker nodded but refused to divulge any intel. "Where did they end up placing her?"

Gary began to seem agitated, picking at his short nails. "That's about when I was booted off the team. I never liked the ethics of that company, but they paid handsome. You know, for the other cases, the kids were given up willingly. This girl was taken from her mother when she was eight years old. I spent weeks of sleepless nights going over the files trying to figure out if I wanted to quit. And that's what I ended up doing."

No wonder Gary was living where he was, and why he was living that way. After quitting Umbrella, he simply didn't have the funds to continue the lavish lifestyle. He gained weight, drank beer, and was addicted to cigarettes and television.

This is the man who had information on my daughter, and I couldn't find him? There's no way he was still under Umbrella's protection. Instinct told me that Gary was telling us the truth. I began to wrap up our visit when Wesker gave me the stop signal.

"You're telling me Umbrella let you leave right before placing your biggest client?" Wesker pushed, remaining stout.

"I refused to," Gary answered harshly. "It's not right to do that to a family."

My eyes began to wander around the room, spotting a hanging picture frame on the wall. Even in the erratically lit room, I could clearly see Gary and a younger woman posing excitedly for the picture. They had gone fishing together, and both had great catches to show off. Greg looked both skinnier and happier.

"That's your wife?" I pointed to the picture.

"No, younger sister. She helped me depart from Umbrella. When I found her dead in her bed one morning, I knew why."

Sullen, I looked up at Wesker, who remained unmoved.

"Why did they spare you?" Wesker asked.

"I'm not sure," Gary replied with his head hung. "I wish they didn't."

 _Not an invitation to kill him,_ I telepathically portrayed to Wesker. I don't think he heard me.

"For clairty," I piped up. "You don't exactly know where Phoenix was placed?"

"The new director of investigation ultimately decided where she was placed."

"Were you personally able to narrow it down?"

"To a few couples, yeah. It's been so long I can't remember who."

Wesker suddenly looked triggered, as if the word 'remember' flipped a switch. Instantly I knew what was coming next.

"It's not terribly hard to remember a few names, Gary. Was it two families, or three?"

"Definitely two families," Gary replied, detecting the change in Wesker's voice. It was a subtle change, but enough for the old detective to hear. "The girl is eighteen now anyway; either she's started working or is in higher education. You remember what it's like, you were seventeen when you began working for Umbrella."

I looked to Wesker for confirmation of what Gary said. "You remember what it's like?" I repeated.

Gary, alarmed, looked sideways towards me. "How much do you know about your partner, Agent Stone?"

All three of us were silent. Surprisingly, Wesker was the first one to speak.

"I was placed by Umbrella into their foster system," Wesker explained as if it wasn't a big deal. "They raised me the way Gary described. Brought up to their expectations."

So many different questions arised but this wasn't the time to ask. I shut up, desperately wanting to get out of there before Wesker pulled his gun.

"I know Umbrella very well, Gary," Wesker hissed, his glare turning ice cold. When Wesker was upset, he was really fucking upset. The room seemed to have dropped a few degrees, but it was probably just the rain, I told myself. "I've had the privilege of growing up in their system, _their game_. Phoenix is in school now, correct?"

"If I knew any classified information, they would have killed me."

"No, Gary." Wesker leaned back in the armchair, both arms resting on the sides. He reminded me of a king on his throne. "That's where you're wrong. Umbrella killed your sister because you spilled secrets about Phoenix Landing, and she convinced you to leave. How close am I getting?"

Flabbergasted, the sides of Gary's mouth twisted. "How dare you come into my house and talk to me that way?!"

"Hot or cold, Gary," Wesker teased. "Umbrella spared you because you're still an asset to them."

Gary goes to stand, to lunge, but he's nowhere quick enough for either one of us. The fraction of a second it took him to stand, my leg was in front of him. He would have landed on the floor if Wesker was not there to catch him.

Instead of raising Gary on his feet, Wesker allowed his voluptuous body to land on the weight of his knees. He cocked Gary's chin up, and before my eyes, took out his pistol and stood like the grim reaper over the detective.

Anger, not fear, came over him. He didn't plead for his life. Instead, he snarled, "you're still with them! Finally Umbrella sent someone to kill me!"

Wesker had the tip of the suppressor smashed on Gary's forehead, but to my surprise, he relaxed his hand and reached the pistol out to me.

Slowly I stand, looking at the pistol but keeping my arms to my sides. "I don't think he's lying."

"You don't know Umbrella like I do."

"If he was a threat, they would have killed him already."

"He's still useful to them which is why he isn't dead. Umbrella sees people as nothing but pawns; If someone is no longer useful, but they know the truth behind Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, they are disposed of."

My eyes squinted. "Why aren't you dead then?"

Gary and I locked eyes briefly, a bit of compassion still in his gaze.

The woes of anxiety started to appear. My stomach turned like an asphalt truck, especially at the vision of Gary's brains splattered over his outdated carpet. My legs urged me to **go,** so I listened.

Never had I run out of a home quicker. I felt close to sobbing, and the emotion poured out once I noticed Wesker had locked his car.

A strange pop caught my attention. I looked back at the house, in the man's front room window. Vomit rose in my throat when I could no longer see the kneeling detective. Wesker was still, looking down and pulling out his phone.

Yet he only called a number and hung up again. It was a normal ten digit number from the beeps of the dial tone.

Wesker put his gun back in its place and walked out of Gary's house. Once I saw him coming out the front door, a mixture of fear and sadness overwhelmed me. I didn't, couldn't, take my eyes off him while he evenly paced to the driver's side.

He unlocked the car and I scrambled in, soaking wet and emotionally damaged.

We both sat there until I snapped out of my freeze (somewhat literally).

"You killed him?" I asked, my voice cracking. I absolutely hated to be a big baby bitch, because I definitely saw it coming. Obviously, I valued human life more than Wesker did. At that point, I wasn't even sure he was fully human.

"You killed him for Umbrella?"

Wesker was silent for a long time.

"Did he ever have information about Phoenix, or was that just bullshit?"

"He had less information than I thought. He still gave us something to work on."

"Why did you kill him?"

Wesker shrugged but refused to look at me. "You can't trust an ex-Umbrella employee. What would Umbrella want with a guy like Gary?"

Either Gary's performance was a facade or Wesker's was. Both seemed like untrustworthy opponents. Now do I trust the dead one or the alive one?


	5. Note!

I have been foggy lately so please forgive my absence. Mental health is a really good reason to put things on the back burner.

I'm posting this note to both stories because I'm planning on adding a ton (or at least some) filler in between scenes! Right now not much is in the works for Resident Ride but I know I need to add a lot more filler story and definitely more relationship building stuff etc. I feel like there's a plethora of things missing from both stories.

Hopefully in the next coming weeks Maximum Evil will be revised a bit and added to. I'm currently working on the next big event coming up (Alpha goes to the mansion) but I will work on and post filler chapters before finishing and posting the Mansion chapter.

Here's to a good streak for writing!


	6. Neptune

"Wanna get breakfast?" Wesker asked as I walked into the kitchen, freshly back from my morning exercise.

"Is that what you usually do?" I asked, motioning to the basically empty kitchen. "Eat out?"

Wesker shrugged and nodded as he swept up his jacket from the island. "I can't cook worth a shit, anyway. We could be stocked."

I followed him outside and waited for him to lock up. "Wow. We finally have something in common."

He gave me some sort of a side eye as we made our way to the car.

The drive back to town was beautiful, though short. A flight would have been shorter, but I'm not able to see the scenery, the lines of trees, like I do in the sky. See? Flying has never been what it's cracked up to be.

"There's a good Mexican place in town," Wesker chatted. I continued staring at the foliage. "Breakfast burritos to die for."

"I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

Wesker cracked a smile. "I'm cheerful and you're depressed? What timeline have I warped into?"

"This one, unfortunately," I replied quietly, looking at him. His grip on the wheel, the way his veins stood out and went up his arm, reminded me of Fang in all the best ways. It had been the first positively charged thought I had of Fang since he died.

"You seem on edge," Wesker commented. I rolled my eyes. "Is it about what happened?"

"Which event could you possibly be talking about?" I snapped. "Killing the guy, or you trying to get me to kill the guy?"

Wesker remained quiet. "I'm trying to be... pleasant."

He had definitely not ever said those word combinations together. Pleasant came out almost as a hiss. I had nothing to say. My mind was in overdrive.

As much as I'd hate to admit it, the breakfast burritos were to die for. When Wesker explained the size and ordered one burrito for himself, I promptly ordered four, extra steak. Wesker looked unamused upon the cashier's odd stares.

We sat at a table in the furthest corner, though I doubted the one other guest cared about us. The burritos and two sodas came out fast, and I dug in immediately.

"The portion size I can get over," Wesker said after a few moments of observing me, "but you can't slow it down a little?"

"It's habit," I defended, grabbing a napkin and patting my mouth. "Never know when your meal will be cut short." Wesker had obviously never been taught this kind of survival. He shuttered at the thought but I laughed it off. "What's the matter, never had to run for your life before?"

"Not yet."

He continued eating casually but his tone was matter of fact. I watched him until he uncovered his straw and slid it in his drink.

I didn't even want to know. He probably had the rest of his life planned out. The knowledge of his own date of death would not surprise me in the slightest.

Me? Monday was a mystery.

What Wesker asked in the car rolled in my mind. I had a feeling I knew what subject he was referring to.

My facial expression was too telling. Wesker took a noisy drink, catching my attention.

"Did you enjoy it?" Wesker asked nonchalantly. He set his glass down and studied my reaction.

The question embarrassed the shit out of me, especially in a public place. My face began to grow red hot. "What do you mean?"

"You weren't that drunk."

"I don't think I could have gotten any drunker."

"So you do remember."

I remembered that night clearly but up until then I put it way in the back of my mind. This time I allowed myself to access that memory.

Wesker nailing me on Jill's bathroom sink was exactly what one would expect from him. He was as dominant and powerful as her seemed to be. The event was all consuming at the time: we were both on our own planet.

No doubt Wesker was as passionate with any other woman. He knew exactly how to press my buttons so I'd melt in his arms. That's what he wanted: submission.

Now how much of it was just the alcohol?

"Please, enlighten me," Wesker interrupted my trainwreck of a thought process. "You look like you're having a conversation with yourself."

"I'm wondering how much of it was fake," I answered frankly. "By means of alcohol consumption."

"Maximum Ride would never give false consent," he reminded. "She would have snapped my neck while I was down there."

My cheeks still pulsated blood. "I was drunk. You took advantage."

"You're saying you wouldn't have if sober?"

I started on my second burrito, unwrapping the foil slooooowly. He stared me down.

"I would have rethought the location."

"Back at the house, then?"

I chewed loudly and looked up at him. "What if you didn't drink? Would you have gone in the bathroom?"

"I really did have to pee."

"Not an answer."

"You want to know?"

"That tells me you did have a plan all along."

Wesker looked into the kitchen, plainly visible from our table. He watched them pal around for a few seconds, then turned back to me. "If not there, then yeah. At the house."

I knew I should have been bothered but I wasn't. Drunk or not, I would have given in to him eventually.

The third and fourth burrito went by quickly because I forced it to. My true hunger was satisfied for the first time in forever, though I could chow on a couple more.

While walking out of the restaurant, Wesker turned to me. "Do you feel ready for tomorrow?"

I snorted. "Fuck, no."

"What do you need to improve?"

"Is everything an acceptable answer?"

He pondered a response as we climbed into the SUV. "After all these years, I never thought you'd lose confidence."

Pointing it out made my confidence worse. I slumped in the seat. But he was right, I survived again and I'd survive this time. Instinct told me Wesker would not allow me to die. Dare I say protect me?

"What happens after Friday?" I asked.

"You find your daughter."

Yeah, based on what I find in that forsaken mansion. Even then, no matter what, I would be saying goodbye to Wesker. I didn't want to be a part of whatever was next for him, anyway.

Back at the house was terribly dull. Wesker had gone away for several hours on 'business'. Whatever that meant.

Of course I went for a trip. I was in the mood for something cooler; the dry, hot air was inescapable after 11 AM. The western states were way too hot, as were the southern states. A cool draft of air came in from the north, signaling my desired direction.

The mere thought about tomorrow overheated my body. I didn't like the feel of it.

xx

I forgot just how sexy combat gear is. Over the past ten years, I probably on average wore two pairs of clothes a month (embarrassingly, including underwear, but it wasn't hard to wear the clean pair while I washed the other in a river). My money was seldom spent on clothes or shelter.

Tactical head to toe granted me 100 points to my confidence and damage resistance. The skin tight pants and bulletproof vest, similar to what Jill wore, had your typical dark green camo print. Ours was a bit darker however, to blend with the range of forest the Spencer Mansion was smack in the middle of.

The helicopter, along with Brad Vickers, was already stationed and ready to go on the roof of the Raccoon City Police Department. Fittingly, the ladies geared up in one conference room while the men took another. Ladies meaning Jill and I. I had wondered just what was going on in that other room, but imagined it had to be a jungle of roaring laughter and fighting, like men do. Especially men who were about to risk their lives, and the adrenaline sweeping through their systems at this moment. Jill and I were awkwardly silent to each other.

"Rather go to the men's side?" Jill asked me, nearly bitter. The tense tendons in her hand while she zipped up her boots told me the attitude came from being so wound up. She knew this was more than cult business, but she knew not of the whole story. I was relieved anyway to see her cautious.

Underneath my camo colored vest I had to wear a very soft but tight army green shirt. I took one look in the wall length mirror, at my dutch braided hair and violence ready self, and imagined what kind of trouble was coming for me next. I was with Jill on this: Wesker knew much more than us. He was always one step ahead of the game, and for me, the impending future was foggy. I knew one thing. He was lying to all of us, in some way, shape, or form.

Anyway, his manner around me was a strange, sort of excluding way. Before we prepared ourselves in the Police Department, the team talked amongst themselves but I had really nothing much to say. I was there for one purpose only. My purpose was different than Wesker's purpose for me, but it was all the same in the end.

"No. I'll feel just as alienated there."

"Oh please, you're Wesker's pet," she smiled, zipping up her boots. She placed a small knife on the side of her calf. "The way he looks at you- I've never seen that before in him."

I stayed silent but contemplative. I didn't wanna say he only saw me as an experiment, whether it was social or biologic. Most likely both, at one point in time. We finish getting ready quietly, the vibe she gave not good for an impending fight with the mansion.

"Let me help you with your mic," she offered, and in turn I offered my ear. The wireless box went on my belt loop, Jill placing an extra loop around the gadget to secure its place while in the air. Next, the tiny earpiece was placed into my ear. Jill fiddled with some buttons and knobs on mine, then hers that she had already set up on herself.

"Hear me?" Jill asked, and I heard the echo of her voice.

"Good to go," I replied, and she nodded once she heard me again.

"You guys ready to GTFO?" A male voice buzzed over the com.

"Ready to fly," Jill beamed, gifting me a toothy grin. I attempted to reciprocate.

Readying up felt alarmingly quick. The last thing left to do was load into the helicopter and leave. The team came together to race upstairs to the roof, where a helicopter was idling in wait.

"You're ready for this, right?" Wesker yelled to me as I stood a safe length away from the helicopter's razor sharp blades.

"Nothing can be worse than what I've personally experienced at your hands."

Finally something shut the man up, and void of any more words to say, he gave me one last lingering look and climbed into the seats, slipping on his sunglasses and a headset over them.

From the roof of the police department to the ground was about three floors. A beautiful drop, sure. Half wanting to show off and half wanting a really good takeoff, I walked backwards until I reached the roof's halfway point. Then, running as fast I can, I shoot myself into the air at the ledge, crossing pure, unadulterated air for twenty full feet before retracting my wings from their dark cave.

Immediately the air current caught the feathers, whipping them around as I turned around to face the still seated helicopter. Everyone had gotten out to watch, and a smile couldn't help itself while it reached ear to ear.

Once I was facing them they scrambled back inside and the roar of an engine about to rise filled the air. Pushing myself backwards, against the current, I watched as they rose slowly and began to head further into the mountains.

I let them get a considerable distance from me, a black blur in the blue sky, before taking off at full, lightning speed.

Since escaping the very place I was headed to I hadn't flown with such cooped up energy! Dipping up and down dramatically, thousands of feet into the air, letting my stomach catch up with the rest of my body later. My muscles would be sore later, for sure.

The power from the virus still boiled inside of my blood even ten years later, and I felt the power of those singular atoms glow red hot. They seemed to take over my other cells one by one; especially if I pushed myself harder. My body knew they were intruders, but it also sensed the benefits of the change.

For the first time, they screamed for more.

Not more than two minutes passed before I was caught up with the chopper. I slowed down considerably, foregoing the bomb dives from here on out. The air now stunk of rot, a clear sign of an impending Umbrella laboratory. This time however, the rot was different. Humid, like it was capsuled in droplets in the air, guaranteed to infiltrate anyone's lungs who's unlucky enough to walk by.

This high up, the land the mansion sat on was clearly outlined against the forest. Once the chopper was close enough, Brad began descending, eventually cleanly landing on a clearing close to the farthest edge of the property.

My descension began when the propellor blades quit moving so fast. The crew hopped out once I landed, throwing their head gar back into the cabin.

"I'll be here, brother," Brad stated, giving a several step, strong handshake to Chris. He gave an extra pistol and ammo to Brad.

"Do good. Survive," Chris replied, his tone nearly shiver inducing. My body shivered anyway, releasing the extra energy cooped up from flying.

Wesker took my attention away from the scene. He double looked my outfit, seemingly pleased, and waited for everyone to gather around the Captain.

"Listen closely," Albert commanded. "Up this hill-"

We looked upwards, at an octagonal shaped out building perched on top of the grassy terrain.

"-is the only outer entrance to the underground laboratory. The Aqua Ring will be our first stop. Got it?"

As we nodded in compliance, a low demonic growl came from the trees to our side. We slowly looked towards the origin, the sound of six metal guns raising actually kind of miraculous.

The sound grew nearer until a huge pack of Cerberus, at least ten, crept from the forest line, their snouts oozing with yellow drool.

"They're just mutts," Chris shouted to the team, his voice still suggesting something was off about the pups. Little did he know. "Rabid...?"

Wesker began shooting immediately. I jumped out of my skin but had no time to react, killing the closest Cerberus to me. Another one was right behind that one, and I shot him in the head as well.

We killed the preliminary pack quickly, not breaking a sweat, until more began to run out of seemingly nowhere.

"Make it to the out building!" Chris ordered us as at least a dozen Cerberus charge our direction. I hang tight, accurately killing four of them before booking it up the hill. Other than me, Joseph Frost stayed behind the longest. One moment he was right behind me and the next his screams echo past me. I didn't have the heart the look back, and at the top, I lost balance and began to use my hands to guide me the rest of the way to the building. Wesker grabbed my wrist once I was in reach of the metal doorway and he dragged me inside, slamming the door.

The charging dogs slammed against the metal simultaneously, their teeth and claws making a deafening noise in the tiny room.

The room was bare save for the manhole in the center. Wesker lifted it effortlessly and slid it aside.

"Joe.." Jill whispered. Chris squeezed her hand.

"We must continue," Wesker demanded. He looked down the deep, dark hole. "The Aqua Ring is right below us. It's the only external entrance to the Laboratory below the mansion. Ladies first."

Jill and I exchanged looks. I holstered my gun to slowly inch my way onto the ladder, each step lowering me into darkness.

Dark was no stranger to me. The last ten years was not spent in hotels every night. I had no issue climbing up a park tree most nights and sleeping there. My night vision was already excellent; though I was near death, the trials granted me try a greater increase to my abilities.

The Aqua Ring was mentioned only as an escape route in the plan. I smelled salt water heavy like metal in the air, paired with the unmistakable stench of decay. Both were strong enough for a human to smell.

The end of the ladder came before the ground. I dropped effortlessly, a blanket of humid air pummeling me as I scan the room.

On the opposite side was our entrance to the lab. While I scooted away quietly, Jill dropping to my side, I studied the control room directly to our right. Without going across four gigantic tanks, this was our only way to the exit.

"Christ, I could barely fit through," Chris muttered quietly, rubbing his shoulders. I hush him.

"We're not alone," I whispered.

My eyes were never still as Barry, then Wesker, dropped from the ceiling. The only light source came from dim single lights in each of the tanks and a glowing red button on the side of a large bay door.

Wesker quietly snuck inside the small control room, pushing a variety of buttons and knobs with no luck. He instructed the rest of the team to remain silent and waved me in.

"No central power. The only thing emergency powers in here are the tanks and the bay doors, from the other side."

"I figured that," I replied, and knew what was coming next. "You want me to go across the tanks?"

"You're more superhuman than any of us."

The metal walkways hooked to the top of the tanks were critically damaged, most of the pieces submerged with the creatures. I'd have to walk, or crawl, alongside the thin metal edges to reach the undamaged path.

These tanks were no fishbowls. They were easily double my wingspan in diameter and all glass, except the metal trim.

I could hear them all breathing in a convoluted way, their exhale more like a wheeze. Thankfully, only two sets of lungs stood out, yet I couldn't tell which tanks they were in.

Slowly, I make my way towards the tank closest to the control room. I peek through the calm blue, expecting the worst. They almost seemed to be sleeping.

Turning around, I was served a worried look from Chris. "We all have to walk across these? Including the biggest of us?"

"No," Wesker answered before I could. "Maximum and I will. You three, find a way inside through the main mansion. Look for any signs of activity."

Jill cocked her gun. "We'll be ready for the pups this time."

"For Joseph," Berry agreed.

We waited until they headed out to focus on our task. On my task. There was a ladder on the right sided tank next to me, but immediately starting there, the path was ruined. If I jumped onto the tank from the middle, I'd have less tank to crawl on.

The jump up to the top was easy enough. Any of us could probably do it, with our training. A civilian might not. I walked to where the two tanks met and waited for Wesker's okay.

A nod from him and I jumped, grabbing onto the side with my arms instead of my hands. My elbows dipped into the high water line, and my boots made a clank onto the glass below me, no doubt sending wavelengths of sound to the creatures. Yet all stayed silent.

Their breathing, their movement, stayed solitary. I glanced back at Wesker, creeped out.

"They're not stupid," I heard him say under his breath.

I gave him a slight nod and climbed the rest of the way up, at first balancing upon the two tanks with my knees before standing. Walking across the side was no issue. So I thought.

As I crept one foot before the other, it was a sudden challenge to keep my feet from slipping. I had to steady myself after my left foot slid on the wet surface, nearly sending me in with the beasts.

Things got a lot spookier for me. Ditching the standing idea, I crouched into a kneeling position again, this time taking note of where the metal was the wettest. Now, the most difficult part was keeping my feet above water.

I'd have to pick which tank to crawl on: left or right. The broken piece of walkway hung downwards, off of the tanks. To get on it, and onto the path that led me to the button, I would have to pull myself onto the platform.

Coming to the junction where all four tanks met, I positioned myself to stretch to the other tank's edge. There was a walkway for a reason. My relatively tiny body could not grasp onto this metal. The traction of my boots were useless. I decided to stand on the edge of my tank, unzipping my jacket and unfurling my wings the tiniest bit. Once my feet were slipping beneath me, I made an effort to jump to the platform, my wings giving me a boost in power.

Seamlessly, I landed on the platform, glancing behind me to see an unimpressed Wesker.

"Easy peasy," I beamed, slipping my wings back into their place, and the jacket as well. Little did I know, the platform itself was unstable, giving way the instant I placed pressure on my next step. I attempted to paw at the wet surface before plunging into the left tank behind me.

 _It's been a minute._

I breathed regularly, bubbles forcing out of tiny slits in the sides of my neck. Yes, gills. Don't ask me, ask Itexicon.

The water was murky but my vision steadied. I could hear a rumble, low, but soothing. They were still asleep.

I surfaced, coughing up the water that didn't translate into oxygen.

"Do not draw blood," Wesker said. "They will awaken."

"God dammit," I muttered, lifting my dripping wet self onto the further broken platform. I crawled my way to safety, and slammed the button without further comment.

"Now unlock the control room door from the other side."

"Why? Don't want to come across?"

"Not particularly."

I ringed my hair out while keeping to the leftmost wall outside the bay door. I unlocked the bolt and allowed Wesker through.

The mansion. I saw relatively little of it ten years ago, while I, _ahem,_ lived here. The basement was my home. It was radiant, it really was. A glance at it wouldn't tell you an evil man lived there.

Wesker took my hand and led me down several winding corridors. I put pressure on my toes to try to stop him to no avail. I gave him a hard tug.

"We're close to the server room," Wesker insisted, impatience in his eyes.

"What about the team?"

"This part is for you. That's why we have to hurry. They are capable."

I relaxed my arm muscle and allowed Wesker to lead the rest of the way.

He stopped in front of a manually locked door. Unlocking the knob with his key ring, he pushed me into the stairwell.

"No, no," I muttered, grabbing the metal railing and peering down at the never ending stairs.

"Elevators aren't running," Wesker said, running down the first flight of stairs before looking back up at me. "Are you coming?"

Wesker's voice echoed in that way concrete staircases give you. Loud, even at a regular tone. It vibrated against my sensitive skin, underneath the clothing.

"Yeah."


	7. The Server Room

The server room was plain, like any other server room you'd see on television. Cords and boxes scattered the many shelves, neatly stacked along metal shelving. One usable computer sat next to the entrance door, and Wesker moved the desk chair out of the way and began typing in credentials. They were several dozen numbers and letters long, for his username and password.

"Here," Wesker mumbled, retrieving the chair for me to sit.

He had pulled up tons of individual files, all named after my family. Fang, Iggy, Angel. The Flock.

My name radiated, asking to be clicked on.

I squinted at the information given to me.

"None of this is helpful," I whispered, a rage boiling inside of me. I scrolled down tons of gibbrish about my past, my medical history, Itexicon, even Jeb Batchelder, my father and the head scientist in charge of our experiment. Nothing I didn't already know.

The kids: Angel, The Gasman, and Nudge, had extensive profiles, but at the end of each one were one of the words I dreaded.

 **DISCONTINUED**

"Discontinued doesn't mean dead," Wesker pointed out. "Anything about Phoenix?"

I clicked on a link that led to Phoenix's profile, speed reading down eight years, _her whole life,_ up until after I never saw her again.

 **DISCONTINUED**

"What the fuck," I mutter, exasperated. "There's nothing past the nineties."

Wesker put a hand on my shoulder. "That's good news. Means leadership was transferred elsewhere. The files are elsewhere."

 _Your princess is in another castle, Mario!_

Defeated, I pushed my way out of the chair and leaned against the nearest shelf. Wesker promptly took my place, sliding himself back at the desk and getting down to business. He typed wildly on the keyboard, jumping from window to window like a professional. Once he was finished, he turned to me."These will take a while to transfer."

"How long?"

"An hour, maybe more."

I groaned and slid into a fetal position. "We have to stay this whole time?"

"It's safest here, and we have to trigger the self destruct timer when it's finished," he explained, pulling out a cigarette. "Besides," he placed it into his mouth, and smoothly lit it with his lighter. "You want me to put you back in a cell, for old times' sake?"

I shoved my head into my arms, blocking out the stupid fluorescent lighting. I did not want to be stuck with this man for that long.

"What do you have to steal from Umbrella, anyway?" I asked, breaking the silence. "Aren't you supposed to be one of their smartest or something?"

"One of," Wesker muttered, chuckling under his breath. "I may be a genius, but I'm not superhuman. It would be useful to have my old research data back, along with Birkin's and whoever else was worth a shit. There's other hidden gems, too."

Ruminating, I think about what he'd said. "Useful for what?"

Wesker stopped swivelling in his chair and faced me, his serious side blossoming. "For what's next, Maximum."

I looked around, sarcastically dumbfounded. "Yeah, that's what I'm asking you."

Slowly he leaned back into the chair. "Vacationing on a tropical island."

I scoffed. "You'd never vacation."

A grin spread. "It does involve one, though."

"I probably don't even wanna know," I said, positioning my head more comfortably in my arms.

Listening to the hum of the machinery behind me was nearly soothing, despite the given situation. Luckily, the Tyrants had all moved upstairs since the outbreak, leaving the halls quiet after Wesker had quieted them, but my mind was nowhere near as still. What was next for me? The only person who might have had an idea was in front of me, talking about a vacation island.

"What's so special about this island?" I asked.

"Rockfort Island. Not yet governed by my authority but soon enough it will be. Stationed underground is a lab, up and running for us."

"You sure love to work underground."

"It's called dirty business for a reason."

I rolled my eyes then shut them, expecting something resembling rest, until a knock from the door interrupted quiet time.

"A knock?" I shouted quietly. "Chris and Jill are supposed to be in the mansion."

"They wouldn't knock either, the bastards," Wesker added. "Stay seated."

I peeked around the shelf as Wesker approached the door, cracking the door an inch and hiding the gun behind his leg after seeing who was visiting.

The minute I had taken my eyes from the door, the echo from its shutting reached my ears too late. I whipped my head back around the corner and jolted to a running position, cursing Wesker's very name after finding the door locked with no apparent mechanism to unlock.

No one was in the hallway from what I could see. I couldn't hear their footsteps. Just the angry rattling of a metal doorknob.

"I should remove your stupid fucking disc!" I scream at the glass window. I had no idea what he was up to, but at least it didn't involve me. No way he would have trusted me with his transfer. Nothing left to do but watch the counter slowly upping its percentage. I slouched into the chair and rested my elbows on the desk.

 _Well, he better come back to set the timer else the place isn't gonna blow._

Twenty, then forty, then fifty minutes lapse since Wesker had disappeared. The transfer was 99% done, and I watched as it hit completion. Silently, I waited a few more quiet as FUCK minutes. I remember what it was like to be underground. The pressure from all the dirt, and building, on top of us made it drastically harder for me to hear. I wondered if they added more soundproofing after I left.

There must have been some way to open the door. Maybe the computer? I clicked on the finish button and ejected the disc once it said it was safe to do so.

All the icons on the screen were completely meaningless to me. None of them said OPEN DOOR. Though, I did find an interesting icon titled Override Module.

Double clicking on the picture, it sent me to a menu with several different options, most making no sense. The last menu option read "Emergency Only".

Why else would you need to blow a building if not for an emergency? Also, it made me uneasy to imagine TNT placed meters from the basement's outer walls, and wherever else it could have been placed to guarantee a complete destruction of property and evidence.

I clicked on the emergency option and read the new selections carefully. Self Destruct was again, the last option.

Clicking this button was so much harder than I thought it would be two seconds ago. My finger cramped when I commanded it to move.

Hopefully there was some way to start a counter after this selection, and it wouldn't start automatically. I'm sure Umbrella had a little bit of safety precaution built into their systems.

Sure enough, an option to start a counter appeared on the screen. Eerily, there was no way to back out at this point: the counter and arrow buttons filled the entire screen.

No one was here to guide me, to tell me what amount of time to set it for, but it was then I remembered our communication radio.

I scrambled for the correct button on the device attached to my hip and held it.

"Chris? Jill? Status report?"

I waited several demanding seconds before a scratch came over the com.

"It's Jill here. No sign of Bravo Team. We took out the forest Cerberus together and went in the mansion together, that's when the group disappeared. I'm alone."

I took a deep breath. "Jill, you have to find Chris. It isn't safe to be here by yourself." I moistened my mouth for the next part. "Wesker took off."

"What are you doing now?" She demanded, "I fucking knew... Umbrella is all over this place. Dead employees with their ID badges still on their coats. Paperwork in drawers. This was a trap."

"Before Wesker ran off there was a knock at the door. I didn't see who it was."

"I don't think it was one of ours. You made it to the basement?"

"Yeah, a server room. I'm locked in."

"You found the Self Destruct?"

"Yeah. I have it pulled up now."

There was a moment of silence. "Set it for three hours from now. I'm coming down to get you."

The communication device, no matter how useful to Jill and I at the moment, relayed our intentions to everyone in the team. It shook me that no one else replied back while we spoke. And Wesker no doubt heard.

"What should I do with his information? His USB stick?"

"Destroy it," Jill grimly commanded. "Smash it to bits."

I didn't reply, and she didn't either. I stared at the little device in my hand. So powerful, yet so small.

I thought to hide it. A little thing so important must have a tracking device on it.

The information on it was a different story. What if what I needed was actually in his files? Hidden from me on purpose?

If I kept it, Wesker would be able to track me down in a heartbeat. But I was sure I'd have enough time to put distance in between us to read the contents, and hand it over once he finds me.

Pocketing the stick, I turned towards the counter once again, setting it for the three hours that Jill said. After waiting a few seconds, a box popped up prompting me to reenter the password. Doing so began the counter.

A new power mode was also activated. The bolt of my door freed, as I suppose all previously locked doors did as well, though I assume all _cages_ were still locked tight. "My door opened," I spoke to Jill.

"Good. New doors opened here, too. I don't like what I hear behind them."

"Make your way to the front entrance," I instructed Jill. "I'll meet you there."

Clashing in one of the adjacent rooms caught my attention, and I listened closely before walking slowly to the door. Once I heard Chris Redfield shouting, I whipped open the door and ran towards the location of his voice.

"Change of plans," I shouted to Jill in between the force of running. "Chris is down here, -"

I skidded to a stop in front of the double doored laboratory room, specifically designed to experiment on the biggest creatures they have, ones that I hadn't ever seen before. I had heard them often, it was hard not to. It took time to sedate them.

The tank of the biggest bioweapon ever made by Umbrella was glowing, not unlike the murky blue water in the Aqua Ring. Emergency lights sparsely lit the unused laboratory equipment and restraining gear around us.

Oddly enough Wesker sported his sunglasses as he stood by the tank. A wave of regret, and most of all betrayal washed over me. I had a hard time standing on my two feet.

Chris looked back to see me standing in the open doors. "He's worked for Umbrella the entire time!"

His words echoed through my mind, draining all color from my face.

"She kinda knows already," Wesker remarked, glaringly cocky. "Don't you, love?"

Chris turned around to face me, about ready to murder my body. His fist clenched around the base of his gun and he pulled it on me. "Care to explain? Fuck, no wonder why you knew your way around here."

"I was the victim in this basement," I snapped, my hand on the gun at my side. "And he was the fuckin' assistant scientist."

I pointed a shaky finger at Wesker. He laughed.

"Go on," Wesker purred, "what else did I do for you?"

"Freed me," I admitted, swallowing thick saliva. "Let me walk."

He seemed disappointed with my explanation. "Ten years paid vacation _and_ you did what I wanted today. I'll call it even if you hand over the stick."

"You should know I'm not giving it to you that easy."

"Fair enough," Wesker said, turning around to face the computer behind him. He booted the system and turned to us while he waited. "You should know I'll retrieve it from you someday."

Chris faced Wesker as the machine began to make noise. Now we both pointed our guns at him.

"I'm almost to the basement!" Buzzed Jill on all of our coms. We still stared at each other.

The system was good to go. Wesker gave us a grin and took off his sunglasses, revealing neon glowing orange eyes, as if the virus was activated in his iris. It burned like a bonfire, warm, as if it was a winter's day, and I was stranded outside.

The small fragments of virus still floating inside of my body were like a magnet to the heat, and I had to physically shake my head to rid myself of the attraction. An evil smile, and eyes of a man whose ego just inflated greater looked at only me.

"Regret it, yet?"

"I had no choice but to be experimented on."

"That's not what I was talking about."

A single click on the keyboard, a small movement of Wesker's arm, began a sequence of steam from the monster's tank, the glass side slowly opening. He seemed almost peaceful, but he was sleeping. Alarming dread moved my crosshair to the opening door.

"The Tyrant," Wesker explained over the noise. "Umbrella's best creation. Can you believe this was once a wee petty human?"

He was waking. I didn't want to face this. I didn't think I would have to, going into this. I should have known.

The sweat from the anticipation beaded on my forehead and palms of my hands. _This is what it was like to have an anxiety attack._

Too much at once. No information on my daughter. Who I trusted betrayed me. I knew bullets weren't going to take down the beast.

The anxiety caused adrenaline filtered through my limbs, activating a power within me that had only been necessary in dire moments: one of looking at certain death. Heat rose from underneath the layers of skin, but when I looked down, there was no redness. I looked back up, and felt the most intense focus of my life. Yet as the beast awoke, and slowly oozed out of its container, it looked straight at Wesker, raising its clawlike hands, with nails like spikes.

The spikes came down faster than I could blink and penetrated both of Wesker's shoulders, raising him into the air.

Chris began shooting at it, so I did too. As I expected, it didn't slow down.

Shocked, Wesker held onto the monster's wrists, looking down on it. Though he was silent.

Once the monster was through staring at him, he clenched into Wesker's flesh aggressively, completely tearing through his chest cavity. Wesker's mouth made an awful gurgle sound, and the monster dropped him to the ground, looking at his next victims. Chris and I.

"He's gonna charge!" Chris shouted, rolling out of his trajectory. It was too late, or the beast was too fast. Everything was a blur.

The Tyrant flung Chris across the room, his body landing into a gathering of lab equipment. I heard the elevator ding from the end of the hall.

"Stay back, Jill!" I buzzed. "Wesker is... dying. There's a tyrant going after Chris."

"To hell if I let my partner down!"

The tyrant was only interested in Chris and it seemed like he was holding his own. Jill was on the way. I slowly walked over to where Wesker lay motionless next to the computer system. Blood poured through the rips of fabric, pooling onto the floor after it had rolled down his shoulders and rib cage.

He still had enough energy to turn his head towards me as I knelt down.

"You're not dying," I whisper, but it's more of a question.

"Maybe."

The crimson liquid continued to leave his body. Human or no, we all seem to bleed the same.

Jill arrived, gave us a quick look, and went to Chris' aid. She too realized bullets did nothing to the beast.

"Put my glasses on for me, will you?"

I looked at his eyes. "Why?"

"I don't want to die without them on, what do you think?"

I felt like laughing but nothing came out. I reached for the glasses on his shirt and unfolded them, setting them carefully onto of his ears. Coughing aggressively, blood spurted out of his mouth and all over my forearms.

The surprise attack coiled my arms back automatically, but not before Wesker caught one of my hands.

He slid a soft object into my hand and closed my fist tightly, squeezing it. "Good luck."

Wesker went limp, his head rested on one side. Blood still fell from his mouth.

Before I stood, I decided to say one more thing to him.

"I know you're not dead, you piece of shit. You better hope these two don't believe in double tapping a dead body."


	8. Phoenix

_Please leave your message after the tone._

 _"Hey, Chris. It's Maximum. I know shit is pretty heavy right now. I know where my daughter is, I just wanted to ask for a ride before I left town. Call me back at this number. Bye."_

The address Wesker left for me brought Chris and I to a college along the outskirts of Raccoon City, aptly named in honor of the town, like everything else here. I shuddered at how self absorbed the town was on a second glance, and never wanted to return again. Little did I know, the whole town would be decimated less than two months after I reunited with my daughter.

My daughter, Phoenix Ride, aptly named for her striking black hair that always fell way past her shoulders. She looked like a mirror image of her father, Fang, when I saw her last.

 _God, a decade ago. She's my age when I had her._

I was super young. 17. Nobody taught me sex education, okay? I knew where babies came from, but jeez, no one told me just how easily that shit was done. What's easier: test tube baby or sex baby?

My head rested against Chris's car's window, watching this godforsaken city go by one last time. He didn't bother going past the police station.

We pulled up to Raccoon University, its campus like any other grandeur university. The clock tower stuck out in the sky, and I stared at it as we parked in the closest parking space to the main building. He put his car on idle.

"Does Umbrella have a laboratory here?" I asked Chris. His gloomy appearance put a damper on my excitement.

"Go in and ask for the science hall," Chris instructed, giving me a one over. I wore what I found in the closet Wesker had supplied me with, black stretchy slacks and a tight fitting black t-shirt. And yes, my own pair of sneakers and pullover. "You look like a student good enough."

I gripped the piece of paper in my hand and opened the door, stepping out into the overcast September day. Looking back at Chris one more time, I gave him a half smile and worded a sincere thank you. Finally, I received a smile back. Chris saluted me goodbye and put his car in reverse.

Had I ever been to a college before? Damn, and here I thought I had experienced it all.

My baby Phoenix, what kind of woman did she grow up to be? Hell, I had to be a woman at a young age. I raised children at 14.

The student at the front desk was friendly, and I was thankful it wasn't an adult at check in. I asked for the direction to the biology laboratory, and she eyed my lack of backpack or any general supplies, but pointed to the hallway directly behind me. I thanked her and quickly turned around.

Could I smell her from here? I kept my senses to the air as I walked down the lengthy hall, passing regular classrooms on my right. As I approached the end, the clear scent of antiseptic lingered from two closed doors. It overpowered any other scent I could have possibly picked up, and visions of experiments began flooding my vision.

I leaned against an outer pillar, catching my breath and sanity. My hands were on my knees, head down, when the furthest lab door opened abruptly. My head snapped up, my once racing heart stopping at the sight.

"I, uh-" the young woman muttered, concerned. "The front desk said someone was coming."

Remembering to breathe was difficult. I stood up straight, my demeanor freaking her out.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

Phoenix's concern deepend until it came to her. The creases on her forehead turned into the same wide eyed disposition I had.

Now her scent was coming through, as the laboratory's heavy door shut. Tears welled in my eyes as I remembered Christmas dinners with the Flock, Phoenix's first flight. I remembered everything until the rest of the flock left.

"Phoenix," I whispered. The corners of her lips raised as far as they could go, revealing pearly white teeth. "What happened to your hair?"

Phoenix let out a belly centered laugh, because what else could one do in this situation? "I dye it."

The jet black hair she was born with, reflecting her father's perfectly, now reflected her namesake, and perfectly at that. It was like fire, dropping to just below her elbows. It was curled elegantly, flowing and fit perfect for my daughter. Even with the lab jacket, she was gorgeous.

A hug erupted out of me, sending me flying into her arms. She squeezed me back with equal enthusiasm, hugging the tears right out of my eyes. Don't you hate when that happens?

"I-" Phoenix started, "I thought you were dead."

"That's what they told you?" I croaked.

Her lips tightened. "Yes."

So she didn't know how evil Umbrella really was. If they lied about me, only Jesus knows what else they lied about.

"There's so much I want to know," I said.

The mention of Umbrella suddenly had Phoenix on edge. I think the puzzle pieces of her life were finally coming together in her mind. She held me tight but her gaze was in the distance.

I parted myself from her, holding onto her shoulders as I studied her expression. "What's the matter?"

"Here isn't the place to speak." She swallowed as her voice lowered. "I doubt Umbrella knowing you're here is good news."

Phoenix was right, and immediately so, as security came rushing down the hall. My alarms went off, and the building's as well as I grabbed Phoenix's wrist and pulled her out the emergency exit next to us.

We cut through the complex out to the forest, and ran as far away from the town as we could, until a tiny clearing in the woods gave us enough room to unfurl our wings and take off into the summer sky.

I couldn't stop laughing. Not in humor, but in joy, as I saw my daughter flip and fall with exhilaration. It was exhilarating in its own right to see her so free, and to see her once again filled the hole in my heart I'd been missing for a long, long time.


End file.
